A Fool's Hope
by SpawnofAnarion
Summary: Ozpin and Salem have been at war for centuries. The board has changed, as have the pieces, but the conflict has remained the same... until now. A mighty power rises in the East, and unknown players have stepped up to the table, players who pose a threat to both sides. In the midst of this, life goes on at Beacon Academy...
1. A Different Providence

It was morning, and Weiss was just barely beginning to wake up. Her dreams the night before had been lovely—walking along the Atlesian gardens with her sister on a gorgeous day with an inexplicably rainbow-colored sky, being praised by everyone they passed along the way for having become the greatest huntress to ever graduate Beacon Academy. She could see pride in her sister's eyes, even if she hid it well, and could not resist smiling as she walked on roads as soft as pillow down… before she woke up at last.  
All in all, it had been an extremely satisfying sleep after the trials she'd gone through the day before. She felt refreshed, relaxed, and ready to start the day. She rose up, stretching out and allowing herself a dainty yawn… but she saw something out of the corner of her eye, and turned to look at it.

 ** _"Screeeeeeeee!"_**

" _GAH_!" Weiss squawked, jumping up in alarm and toppling to the ground in the process. She caught herself before her face slammed into the hard wood of the floor, but only barely.

Mood. Officially. Broken.

"Gooooood morning, teeeeam RWBY!" A voice from behind her said with an enthusiasm that Weiss at present could only describe as disgusting. Turning to face the culprit, Weiss was entirely unsurprised to find the child that was 'supposed' to be her leader grinning at the room, hands at her sides and incriminating whistle dangling from a cord in her hand.

"What in the world is wrong with you?" Weiss demanded, putting on her most hostile frown.

"Now that you're awake, we can officially begin out first order of business—" The brunette continued, apparently ignoring Weiss completely, which only irritated the Schnee Heiress even more.

" _Excuse_ me?" Weiss demanded, pulling herself to her feet and dusting off her shoulders, irritation winding up towards full-on infuriation. Her vision tunneled in on her supposed leader as her frown threatened to morph into an unladylike scowl. The rudeness, the absolute nerve of—

"Decorating!" Another voice said from her left, throwing off the Heiress' concentration with the surprise contribution. She turned to see the blonde-haired one—Yong? No, Yang, who she only just remembered was that menace's older sister—holding two armfuls of seemingly random items.

"—What?" Weiss asked, blindsided and confused. Decorating? Now? Why?

"We still have to unpack." The black haired girl—Blake, if Weiss remembered, the one who'd insulted her company's name—said, holding up what was presumably her suitcase.

It promptly fell open, loosing its contents onto the floor in a messy heap.

"…aaand, clean." Weiss' black-haired teammate continued, as if she'd always intended to finish her statement that way. She and the blonde girl looked at her for a moment as if they expected her to say something.

There were many things Weiss was considering saying at that moment, or shouting, or screeching, mostly having to do with expressing her complete and all-consuming fury at being woken up in such a way. Composing such a diatribe took her a moment, however—such masterpieces of wordplay could not be rushed—so she stood, simply frowning at them, preparing to unleash a verbal assault that would ring in their ears for weeks over this.

 _ **"Screeeeeee!"**_

Weiss didn't even make a sound as she toppled over this time, falling flat on her back as she tripped over herself trying to escape that accursed whistle. Anger and embarrassment bubbled up inside her as she managed to get up onto her knees. Falling for the same trick twice—it was disgraceful!

"Aaall right!" Ruby exclaimed. "Weiss, Blake, Yang, and their fearless leader Ruby have begun their first mission. Banzai!" The girl said, raising a fist in the air.

"Banzai!" The other two echoed, mimicking Ruby, before all three tipped to the side at the same time.

Weiss could only groan… there was no way that hadn't been rehearsed. She had not signed up for this.

Nonetheless, she couldn't let these cretins decorate the room by themselves. So, she did what she could. After what felt like an hour of putting together the decor, then being overruled on the merit of bunk beds—which they proceeded to construct in a feat of insanely precarious engineering—the room was finally finished.

"Alright," Ruby said, pointing dramatically to the ceiling, "our second order of business iiiiiiiis—" She twirled in a circle in what Weiss judged a particularly ridiculous display before hopping up onto her bed and pulling out a book—"classes." Weiss could barely repress her sigh of relief at that. At least classes would feature normal people and require everyone to remain more or less silent.

"Now, we have a few classes together today," Ruby began, 'at nine we've got to be—"

"What!?" Weiss blurted out, hoping against hope she had misheard. "Did you say nine o'clock?"

"Umm…" Her useless joke of a leader said, looking side to side.

"It's 8:55 you dunce!" Weiss exclaimed. She'd been checking the clock every minute or so during the last stages of bunkbed engineering, just in case checking the time would make it go faster. It hadn't. Not quite believing the unbelievable airheadedness of her supposed leader and feeling a spike in panic at the thought of being late to her first class, on her first day, Weiss turned and sprinted out of the door and down the hallway. Luckily, she'd memorized the layout of the dorm building on her way in; it didn't take long to find the exit onto the main avenue. She heard the others begin to catch up behind her, but didn't look back—there was no time for that was ridiculous. How on Earth could a leader be so dense as to know that their team had a class together at 9 and then let them waste their time for a full hour on decoration and bunk beds, of all things? It was totally irresponsible. How could they expect Weiss to follow a person like tha—

Weiss stopped. Something had filtered into her brain through her eyes that simply could not be true; it brought her train of thought to a screeching derailment. She stood, stock still, not even hearing the panicked yelp behind her as her teammates and another team bowled over each other in an attempt to not run into her.

"Geeze, Weiss—what the heck was that for?" An angry blonde brawler shouted. Weiss couldn't bring herself to respond. She just stared down the road, far at the end—at the skydock.

"Weiss, is everything… okay…" Weiss heard Ruby come up next to her, and stop. "What's that?" Weiss's ignorant leader asked, confirming that she wasn't the only one who saw it. She could hear her heartbeat pumping through her ears, her palms beginning to sweat. It wasn't a stress induced hallucination. It wasn't a sign she was going insane. It was much, much worse.

"That shouldn't be here." She said, calmly.

"What d'you mean?" Ruby asked. Weiss turned to face her.

"Someone must go alert the school, right now." Weiss said, feeling the numbness begin to wear off and hearing the panic begin to seep into her own voice. She fought to keep it out.

"Why? Weiss, what's going on?" Ruby said, with what Weiss guessed was a concerned expression on her face.

" _That's the_ Morrigan!" Weiss shouted, failing at last to restrain her panic. "That's the _Morrigan_." She said a second time, a bit more quietly. Ruby looked startled by this, but her expression did not hold nearly the terror it should have had. Neither did those of her other teammates, who now stood next to the two of them looking on in confusion. However, the other team—it was that bumbling fool Arc's team, Weiss now noted—had paled to a degree fitting the situation. Sans Arc, that is, not that that was particularly surprising.

"Surely it cannot be…" Pyrrha said, hands clutching at weapons that weren't there.

"It is." Ren said, softly. Nora was uncharacteristically quiet, eyes wide.

Far away, a behemoth descended slowly out of the sky. Its dark mass resembled a sea creature of the prehistoric past, drifting down onto its prey; its bottom half was a bright white, its upper half a purple so dark it was almost black, and it was highlighted all along by a bright violet. Two great fins sprouted out from its massive cylindrical body, drooping to either side; on each was mounted a gigantic mass glowing with pink light on one end. The entirety of it was dotted with protrusions, each at regular intervals, each appearing as a jagged tooth or claw. Two horns protruded from its head, going straight out and then twisting up towards the sky. One massive protrusion, like the horn of a unicorn, stretched out before it. It was as if it had jumped right out of the pages of Weiss' history textbook. It was right there.

"We… we have to do something." Weiss said, knees feeling weak. How had this fear swept over her so quickly—where had it come from? She was better than this. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Weiss—is it dangerous?" Ruby asked, voice more serious than at any time Weiss had known her before, but surprisingly calm. Weiss nodded in response, and Ruby turned to the group.

"Jaune, get back to the school and let them know about the—" Ruby gestured towards the aberration that was drawing nearer every second, "thing." she finished. Jaune nodded, setting off at a sprint towards the main school.  
"Alright, whatever this thing is, we're going to have to hold it off until help arrives. That sound about right, Weiss?" Ruby asked.

"Yes. We need to move fast." Weiss managed, finding an unexpectedly reassuring strength in Ruby's silver eyes. Ruby nodded.

"Team RWBY—let's go!" Ruby cried, charging off towards it, followed closely by Yang and Blake. Weiss blinked for a moment, realizing what she had just done.

"Wait—no! Not without our weapons—" It was too late. She began to sprint after them, followed closely by 3/4s of team JNPR. She had to stop them, before it was too late. It was a hard choice, looking up at that thing as it got closer and closer, bigger and bigger, and her teammates looking so small in front of her. She was staring death in the face, maybe for the first time, and it made her want to vomit or turn and run. It wouldn't be hard to find a place to hide in a city as big as Vale—but she could never live down that kind of shame, and she refused to be a coward. If Weiss Schnee had to die honorably or tarnish her own name with cowardice, she would choose the former. Though she really hoped it wouldn't come to that. Dying on her second day at Beacon would truly be a disappointing end.

Adequately distracted by thought and insulated from the reality of the situation, it wasn't until she ran fully into and bowled over a mass of red cloth that she realized she'd caught up to her team, almost at the end of the skydock.

"Oww…Weiss!" Ruby exclaimed, and Weiss realized—to her horror—that she'd accidentally tackled her team leader. She tried to untangle herself, but the cloak the smaller girl wore constantly had gotten wrapped up in her legs and it took a moment of struggling to get them loose.

"Why were you just standing there, you lunatic? Also, what on earth possessed you to charge up at it without your scythe? We have to go get our weapons, now!" Weiss said, shaking her dazed team leader.

"But Weiss—" Ruby started to say, but Weiss cut her off. Whatever her 'brave leader' had to say was irrelevant.

"No 'buts'! Do you have some kind of death wish? What could possibly make you think that—"

"Ahem." A familiar voice intoned from nearby.

Weiss glanced over, and felt a wave of relief wash over her at the sight of Headmaster Ozpin, followed by a wave of confusion—the man was just standing there, idly nursing a mug of coffee in on hand and loosely holding his walking stick in the other. Glinda Goodwitch stood by his side, looking irritated, but not nearly as ready for a fight as she should have been.

"Professor Ozpin! Listen to me, we have to stop that thing—" Weiss began.

"Miss Weiss, your enthusiasm is admirable, but perhaps it would be best if you calmed down for a moment." Ozpin said, then took a sip of his coffee. "Also, I believe Miss Rose would appreciate it if you would release her."

Weiss looked down and realized she still held a still very dazed Ruby by her uniform's lapels. This seemed suddenly to be an extremely rude thing to do, and under the pressure of burgeoning embarrassment she helped Ruby to her feet. The girl gave her a dizzy smile in thanks, which made Weiss feel slightly guilty for having run her over like that. One glance at the behemoth that was almost directly overhead, however, replaced all the nuanced feelings with a fresh dose of anxious panic.

"Professor Ozpin, sir, you do know what that is—" She began to ask.

"Yes, I do." Ozpin replied, taking another sip of his coffee as he regarded the approaching monstrosity.

"T-then, you know we have to stop it." Weiss said. Ozpin shot her an amused glance.

"I'm afraid on that particular count, Miss Schnee, you are incorrect." Ozpin said.

Weiss felt confusion and panic begin to swirl inside her again, and added irritation at the continued emotional whiplash. Was it really so much to ask of herself to just feel one thing at one time? It was almost shamefully anarchic of her.

"Wait a second…" Yang said, standing with the rest of the group a few feet away, where Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren stood anxiously. "That's—that's not a Grimm! That's—" Yang began.

"A ship." Ruby said, gazing up with a far-too impressed expression. Naturally her and her bimbo sister wouldn't know.

"A nightmare." Weiss said, before turning back to Ozpin. "Professor—"

"Miss Schnee, calm yourself. We have been expecting this ship for the past week; there is no need to panic." Ozpin said. Perhaps he had intended to be reassuring, but this only increased Weiss' confusion.

"Expecting… what could possibly warrant that ship's arrival at Beacon?!" Weiss demanded.

The bespectacled headmaster simply gestured up to where the gigantic ship had almost made contact with the skydock, barely 30 feet away. It stopped, suddenly, and a segment of the hull lowered gradually down until it had become a gangplank. Weiss braced herself for the onslaught she was sure would rush out of the belly of that beast at any moment… but for a moment, nothing came. Then, a figure strode out of the darkness, and Weiss let out a small gasp. She hadn't known what to expect, but this was a surprise.

He had unkempt dark hair and was as thin as a scarecrow, but carried himself with the sort of undeniable gravitas that she'd only seen in men like General Ironwood. His violet eyes swept across the group of them; Weiss felt as if the shadow of a nevermore had just passed overhead, blocking the sun's heat. Chills ran down her spine. She almost didn't notice as he began to walk forward, his steps long yet measured. Weiss' eyes briefly scanned over his clothing—he wore an unfamiliar uniform, almost all in black with the occasional highlight of sharp crimson or bight gold, with a black half-cape that fluttered softly in the wind covering his right side and a sheathed sword hanging on his left. Seeing that, Weiss couldn't help but tense up. Two more figures appeared behind him, who Weiss only barely registered—one a girl with bright red hair, one a brown-haired boy, both dressed in unfamiliar but unremarkable fashions. It seemed like an eternity before the black-haired man reached the bottom of the stairs and approached, eyes fixed on Ozpin. Seeing that, Weiss drew closer to her headmaster, and felt the other students doing the same. The man stopped a few feet away, and it was only then that Weiss took in his features; he was handsome, it was true, although his features were so fine he might more accurately be described as beautiful. His eyes, however, were inscrutable. Weiss was genuinely alarmed when his lips pulled up into a polite smile.

"Prince Lelouch, I presume?" Ozpin asked, idly swishing his coffee mug. Weiss frantically dug around in her memory for that name; she'd heard it somewhere before…

"You're correct. You must be Headmaster Ozpin, then?" The black haired man—Lelouch—asked.

"Indeed—but 'professor' is fine. I must say, we have been eagerly awaiting your arrival for some time now." Ozpin said, smiling knowingly, as if he didn't know the chaos his words were causing in Weiss' head. They'd been expecting him? How… why would they be… She almost missed Lelouch's slight frown in response.

"Yes… I apologize if our lateness has caused any inconvenience. We encountered a village under attack on the way here, on the Anima coast." Lelouch said. Glinda looked alarmed at that, but Ozpin merely continued to smile.

"I understand—in fact, you have my gratitude." Ozpin said, bowing his head slightly. "Regrettably, however, you have missed the team assignment ceremonies by a day, and arrangements must be made in that regard; each team must have four members, and all present teams have been assigned."

"Ah, hopefully that won't be a problem. I've brought along an honor guard, each member of whom should be both at an acceptable skill level and the proper age to attend Beacon." Lelouch said. He threw out an arm, gesturing to the other two figures descending the stairs. Ozpin glanced over at them.

"Fortunate indeed—we shall see how they fare in training, but I will trust in your judgment for the time being. We will still have to arrange for a fourth member, of course." Ozpin said. Lelouch paused for a moment.

"I don't believe so—there are three members of my honor guard, after all." He gestured first to the brown-haired one. "This is Suzaku Kururugi," he gestured at the red-haired one, "this is Kallen Stadfeldt," he gestured to the green-haired one, "and this is C.C."

Weiss almost had a heart attack. Had that girl been standing there the whole time? How had she not noticed someone get that close—only a few feet away, out in the open—especially someone with lime green hair? Even Ozpin seemed taken aback.

"…Ah. So I see. Moving on, there's the matter of your battleship. I'm afraid we will require the use of our dock sooner or later, so it can't stay where it is indefinitely—and there is the fact that our Mistral-born students will likely be disturbed by its presence." Ozpin said.

"Ah—the Morrigan will be moving out shortly. I've left the captain with orders to patrol the region and cull any sizable groups of Grimm that she encounters. It will be returning to the city at intervals to resupply, but for the most part it should be out of your hair." The black-haired prince replied. Ozpin nodded.

"This is acceptable. Now, one last thing." Ozpin's eyes narrowed slightly. "I acknowledge that you have a high rank and a noble birth, but we do not assign preference to any student based on such things at Beacon Academy. Every student works to improve themselves as a student, and as a guardian of humankind from those who would threaten it; social position has no value to the Grimm. You will not be allowed to rely on prestige or wealth to succeed in these halls. Is this understood?"

"Yes." Lelouch replied, eyes narrowing as well.

"Wait—you're here to become a student?" Weiss asked, before realizing what she was doing. Suddenly, those inscrutable orbs were focused on her.

"Of course. What did you think this was for?" Lelouch said, raising his right hand—which Weiss had only just realized held a jarringly normal duffel bag.

"I-I—b-but—" Weiss stammered, getting a warning glance from Glynda.

"Good." Ozpin said. "Well, now that that's settled, let me be the first to welcome you to Beacon Academy."

"Thank you—it's truly a magnificent place. Were will we be staying?" Lelouch asked. Weiss could barely comprehend what had just happened.

"Right this way." Glynda said, before glaring at all of the others present. "I believe the rest of you have classes to be getting to, yes?" She 'asked'. The implicit threat of punishment in her eyes was motivation enough. Suddenly, most of their two teams was setting off at a sprint. Weiss felt hands grab her upper arm and drag her along.

"Come…on…Weiss! You were so worried about being late before!" Ruby—the owner of the aforementioned hands—said, and Weiss followed, glancing back every second step at the creature who had just joined their school. She noticed Pyrrha of all people doing the same, looking back with a deer-in-the-headlights sort of expression as Nora dragged her along. Weiss wondered if her own face looked the same.

Class wasn't important. A Britannian Prince had come to Beacon—this could spell disaster for everyone, for everything; all her hopes and dreams. How could this have happened?


	2. A Dishonor Unrequited

How could this have happened? How could he be here?

Pyrrha couldn't help but stare at the clock, watching the minutes tick slowly by. It was taking all of her discipline to keep from tapping her toe against the floor, so she let her finger tap her notebook instead and tried to focus on the class. Professor Port, however, was not making it easy to do so. She was happy for him that he'd had the opportunity to go on so many adventures, but it really should've been obvious that such stories weren't necessarily the most educational ones he could've used. Pyrrha, for one, was getting no useful information from the fact that he'd managed to wrestle a beowulf into submission at the age of 7.

The only thing that had the potential to make this class worse was the fact that he was going to be a first year student, and would thus probably be there too, every day. Oh… oh no…

A bubble of panic began to work its way up her throat. The world seemed to shift around her—her vision was blurring. She—she was going to faint. She needed to get out of here, but, how? Bathroom. Go to the bathroom. She raised her hand, though she wasn't sure she even had the breath to ask.

"Ah, Miss Nikos! Yes, you may very well be the most experienced fighter in this room, given your renown as a champion. However, how shall that experience fare in combat against a true mortal foe?" Port said.

"S-sir! I would like to prove that I'm a true huntress as well!" Weiss exclaimed, standing from her seat.

"Apologies, my dear, but we only have time for one such trial today, and miss Nikos has already volunteered." Port said.

She'd… volunteered? The immediate confusion forced the existential panic back down. Volunteered for what?

She watched as Port walked over to an ominously rattling cage as Weiss sat back down with a " _hmph_ ".

"Now then, Miss Nikos, it is time to prove yourself! Step forward," Port said, gesturing to the cage, "and face your opponent."

Opponent? He wanted her to fight? Fighting, with her head as it was… would be perfect, actually.

Pyrrha stood, picked up her beloved weapon/shield duo Milo and Akouo, and made her way down the stairs to the stage. As Port went to unlock the cage, Pyrrha schooled her mind into place, pushing each overactive emotion to the forefront and channeling her panic and confusion into her muscles until they felt ready to explode. She let herself fall naturally into her combat stance as the cage door creaked open.

"Go Pyrrha!" Someone shouted. She glanced up and saw it was Jaune, shooting her a thumbs-up, and Nora pumping her fist in the air as well. Ren shouted nothing, but set her an encouraging smile. It was so nice, having teammates. She'd only had them for a day so far, but already it had been wonderful. She shot a smile up at them before turning back to face the cage entrance.

Red eyes glared out at her from the darkness.

There was no warning before the beast charged straight at her—but Pyrrha needed no warning. She rolled to the side, letting it pass uncontested as she studied its exterior. It resembled some kind of armored demon boar. The bone plates covering its back meant that any chopping or slicing attack to the exterior would be futile. No use in that approach.

It turned and seemed to try to size her up, unintentionally giving her the initiative. She immediately transformed Milo into its rifle form and fired a shot into the boar's left eye. The beast screamed in rage, and began to spin like some sort of monstrous wheel, rolling rapidly across the floor towards Pyrrha. She sidestepped again, allowing the beast to smash itself into the far wall and rebound onto its back. At a glance she realized that its underbelly was unarmored—the perfect spot for a killing blow.

The beast was beginning to rise, but before it could Pyrrha shifted Milo into javelin form, took aim, and spear sailed across the room, burying itself into the beast's chest with a satisfying thunk. The beast let out one long, final squeal, then began to disintegrate, taking the intensity of the combat atmosphere with it.

"Bravo, Miss Nikos, Bravo! It appears we are in the presence of a true huntress in training." Port said. Pyrrha felt the little thrill that always accompanied even the smallest victory, and schooled her breath back to normalcy. Even that brief battle had been enough to calm her down.

"I'm afraid," Port said, glancing at the clock, "that's all the time we have for the day. Be sure to cover the assigned readings, and—stay vigilant! Class dismissed."

* * *

The rest of the day seemed to pass by in a blur—Weiss storming out of the room after Port's class with Ruby on her tail, a quick lunch, then another class, and then dinner, and then homework, and then the sun had already set and all her teammates had gone to sleep and she was on the edge of doing so herself. She'd almost managed to forget that morning, almost managed to convince herself that it was merely a daydream. But, her sleep was haunted by dreams and memories…

 _She was there, again, that stadium with the green-sand floor and the high granite columns. She could hear the crowd roar, feel the excitement saturating the air, feel her own excitement mixed with trepidation and dour determination. She held Milo and Akouo tight, taking comfort in their familiarity._

 _Across the dream-blurred stadium stood her opponent, tall and still. Suddenly they were clashing, a desperate melee of quick movements, but she had a shield—she had Akouo—and her opponent had only a blade. She smashed her way forward again. She heard the crowd roar, heard her mother—her coach—cheer her on. Then, there was nothing in her way. She thrust Milo forward. It bit deep into flesh, and suddenly everything was quiet. Somehow, she knew, the crowds were still cheering, her mother was laughing grinning like a maniac, but a deeper crimson began to flow up Milo's blade…_  
 _She tried to let go. Her hand was stuck fast. She tried and she tried and she tried as what could only be blood seeped up Milo's blade, Milo's handle, onto her fingers, onto her arm, crawling up her sides, onto her face, sinking deep, covering her mouth, going down her throat, covering her eyes—"_

Pyrrha woke with a start, gasping for air and covered in sweat.

"Pyrrha… you alright?' Jaune asked from nearby, concern written across his sweet, adorable face.

"I… I'm fine, Jaune." She said, flashing him a smile that she hoped looked more real than it felt.

* * *

Having showered off the sweat and put on her clean uniform, Pyrrha walked with the rest of her team to lunch, chiming in occasionally on Ren, Jaune and Nora's conversation. That is to say, Jaune and Nora's conversation. Ultimately, one might go so far as to suggest that it was Nora's conversation.

"And I just can't wait for the waffles! Missing breakfast yesterday was the worst thing ever." Nora said. She glanced up at Ren, and chuckled nervously. "Not that I wouldn't definitely like yours more, Renny." Ren nodded.

"Yeah, sorry again about that. At my old school, they did announcements, you know? I was expecting some sort of, I don't know, breakfast bell." Jaune said, looking a bit down—which was as cute as it was endearing.

"None of us blame you, Jaune—consider it water under the bridge." Pyrrha said, putting a hand on Jaune's shoulder. He shot her a grateful glance, and she felt like giggling with glee. That was strange, too—she'd had crushes before, but with Jaune it felt… different, somehow. A little deeper.

As they walked though the doorway into the cafeteria, however, she caught sight of someone that made those thoughts take an emotional nosedive.

There he was. Just sitting there, opposite his two teammates, eating scrambled eggs.

Pyrrha nearly toppled over as someone ran into her from behind.

"Oof—uh, sorry, didn't see you there." It was a tall second-year student she'd never met before.

"My apologies, I'm afraid I was lost in thought for a moment there." Pyrrha said, a little embarrassed that she had just been standing in the doorway like that. She quickly made her way over to the table her teammates had chosen. Team RWBY, it seemed, had beaten them to breakfast, as they already sat opposite. Ruby had already helped herself to an absurd number of eggs—Nora likewise had stacked her plate high with a precarious tower of waffles and was cackling with glee as she poured syrup over it. Ren was somehow artfully dissecting an omelette with a pair of chopsticks, Weiss was daintily working her way through a parfait, Yang was plowing through hash browns and bacon at a truly terrifying rate, Blake was reading a book while transporting bites of salmon to her mouth with her fork in the other hand, and Jaune was adorably munching on some cereal—which Pyrrha realized, with a flush of embarrassment, was from a nearby box of Pumpkin Pete's with her image emblazoned across it. Everyone was too busy eating, it seemed, to have struck up a conversation, so Pyrrha just sat down at the open spot next to Jaune and began collecting her preferred breakfast from the food still left on the table—bacon, scrambled eggs, assorted fruit, and hashbrowns. It was good she hadn't wanted waffles, as Nora had claimed all of them.

It wasn't long before everyone had finished their food. They still had time before their first class of the day, however, and everyone was loath to just get up and leave when they could simply sit and talk. The two teams chatted amongst themselves, discussing Port's readings, the weather, and various other equally innocuous topics. Pyrrha noticed, however, that every once and awhile Weiss would glance back and scan the cafeteria. She wasn't fully participating in the small-talk, either.

"Weiss, are you okay?" Ruby asked. Pyrrha was glad she hadn't been the only one to notice.

"I'm fine." The Schnee heiress said, a little too quickly. She looked at Ruby's disbelieving face, and seemed to cave—which was a little strange; Weiss had been so irritated with Ruby the other day hadn't she? It would have been difficult for Pyrrha, who had been trained to pay attention to and analyze the smallest of sounds, to have not heard pieces of the fight the two of them had in the hall the day before over leadership. Perhaps they had made up?

"Alright, but I'm not not fine. I'm… nervous." Weiss said. Ruby's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Nervous? Why?" Ruby asked. Weiss frowned a little.

"Not… nervous, per say. More, anxious. I'm being… wary, I suppose." Weiss said.

"Wary of what?" Ruby asked, expression getting a bit more serious. Pyrrha felt the rest of the table's conversations die down a little, listening to the two girl's discussion a little more intently.

"The Britannians, obviously!" Weiss said.

"Oookay… why are you nervous about the Britannians?" Ruby asked.

"I'm not nervous! I'm wary. And you should be too." Weiss looked around at the rest of the table, whose conversations had fully died down. "You all should be."

"What's wrong with Britannians?" The question came from Yang this time. "I mean, they're a bit warlike or whatever, but so's Atlas, yeah?"

"It's not the same!" Weiss exclaimed, slamming her hand down on the table. "The Britannians are bloodthirsty, and vile, and they're all like slaves to their spoiled aristocrats—people like that prince over there!"

"Woah there, Weiss cream—I didn't mean to step on your toes there or anything, sheesh." Yang said, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. "But, for real, it seems like that might just be the sort of thing they tell you in Atlas, you know? At Signal they told us Atlas and Britannia hated each other's guts, but were pretty similar army-and-government-wise; just different kinds of people in charge." Yang said.

"That's not even remotely true! The Britannians have done abominable things. They're almost as bad as the Grimm—maybe worse! Grimm don't think, don't pretend to be people. Britannians choose to be evil." Weiss said, suddenly turning to face Pyrrha. "Pyrrha, you're from Mistral—don't you agree that that creature over there is dangerous to all of us?"

Pyrrha froze as the whole table turned to look at her. She hadn't wanted to be a part of this.

"…no." Pyrrha said, shaking her head. Weiss was dumbstruck.

"B-but, the Britannians—" Weiss began to say.

"Have done horrible things, yes, but I don't think individual people deserve to be judged solely on the merits of their nationality." Pyrrha said, meeting Weiss' gaze.

"That doesn't change the fact that he's a prince. He's one of their leaders, not just some random subject." Weiss said, crossing her arms.

"Perhaps normally I might agree with you, but in this case, I cannot. I owe him that much, at least." Pyrrha said—and then instantly resisted the urge to cover her mouth in alarm at what she'd just said. the entire table was staring at her now.

"…owe who that much?" Weiss asked, eyes narrowing. Pyrrha felt the panic rising again, and scrambled to come up with an answer.

"I… um…" Pyrrha stalled.

"Oh crap—guys, class starts in five minutes! We're gonna be late again!" Jaune cried out, almost flipping the table as he stood up and making everyone acutely aware of the fact that the mess hall had emptied out significantly. Instantly the other members of the table began to scramble to gather their things and get going, even Weiss, although she shot a parting suspicious glare Pyrrha's way. Jaune—amazing, wonderful Jaune—shot her a wink as he collected his things and got going. Pyrrha followed, and was almost relieved until she remembered that the Britannian prince would be in class as well.

Their first class of the day was 'The History of Remnant: A Complete Overview and Deconstruction of the Major Events that Shaped and Continue to Shape Our World, Part 1'. They'd all shuffled into their desks, Pyrrha ending up in a spot next to Blake relatively near the center of the room. She caught sight of black hair and violet eyes, and watched anxiously out of the corner of her eye as the Britannian prince walked up the stairs, passed up her row and entered into the row above hers, which at least meant she wouldn't have to look at him. She was dismayed to realize, however, that he'd unwittingly sat down right next to Weiss.

Thankfully, before anything or anyone could be stabbed repeatedly, their professor entered the room. It was quite the entrance, too—one moment, there was no one there, and then with a whoosh of air there was someone, whose name turned out to be Oobleck—he'd already written it on the board. After having met Nora two days prior, Pyrrha hadn't been sure it was possible to find someone with more energy. She saw now that she was wrong. Professor Oobleck moved—and spoke—at a speed the eye and ear could only barely follow. Mere moments after entering the classroom, a syllabus had appeared as if by magic on her desk and those of everyone around her, accompanied by another gust of air that required her to slam her notebook down onto that syllabus to keep it from escaping with the wind. Several other students weren't so lucky, if the small dusting of syllabi falling from the ceiling was any indication. By that time, he'd already jumped fully into lecture mode. Thankfully, he began to slow down to a comprehensible pace about a third of the way through class, and Pyrrha's notes began to become closer to actual recordings than confused guesswork. It ended up being a surprisingly good distraction from her troubles, since even a moment spent out of focus would mean an entire theory on the history of Remnant would be lost.

"…and, we shall conclude with the Great War and its aftereffects, of which there are many—the rise of Atlas, the creation of the CCT network, governmental reform, the end of slavery, and so forth." Professor Oobleck said. Pausing for a moment. "Yes, Miss Schnee?"

"Professor, why are we stopping at the Great War? Shouldn't we be learning about more recent events?" Weiss asked.

"That, I'm afraid, will be reserved for the second half of The History of Remnant: A Complete Overview and Deconstruction of the Major Events that Shaped and Continue to Shape Our World. I applaud your enthusiasm, but we cannot be putting our carts before our horses, as it were. Any more questions?" Professor Oobleck asked. No one raised a hand.

"Very well, then—class dismissed." He said. And suddenly, he was gone. Pyrrha looked up at the clock, a little dismayed that two hours had already passed. Had she been focusing that hard? Regardless, she stood up, grabbed her things, and began to walk along the row where she'd been sitting towards the closest aisle. She stopped, however, when she suddenly made eye contact with the last person she wanted to see, and her stomach flopped.

She stared into those violet eyes, expecting to see hatred, or disgust, or bitterness. All she could see, though, was recognition—whatever else he was feeling, he hid it well. He nodded once, and then moved on down the stairs, becoming a part of the crowd making their way out of the room.

That nod... what was that nod supposed to mean?

"Hey, Pyrrha—are you ok?" Blake asked from behind her, startling her back to focus. Pyrrha turned quickly, and tried to smile.

"You look like you just saw a ghost." Blake said, raising an eyebrow at Pyrrha's attempt to smile.

"I—it's fine." Pyrrha said. Blake frowned, but nodded.

They had 'Dust Chemistry 101' with Professor Peach shortly after that, which while interesting was not really Pyrrha's specialty. Then, it was time for lunch.

On the way into the mess hall, she bumped into him again. Again, he nodded at her, and moved on. This time, she followed him.

She'd always been taught to go at her problems head-on, to face conflict and bring it to a head. Waiting only seemed to make things worse, and there was no running from this. She had to address it eventually—better now than never.

He didn't seem to notice that she'd followed him until he had almost reached the table where two of his teammates already sat, chatting. He glanced back and seemed a bit surprised to see her following him, and turned to face her.

"Pyrrha Nikos—greetings. We've met before." He said. Pyrrha nodded instinctually.

"Yes… I remember." She managed, struggling for words. The silence that followed seemed to drag on. Panic and shame began to crawl up her throat again, pushing her to reconsider, to leave and try to pretend it hadn't happened and she was fine and nothing was wrong. She fought it back. He was just standing there, waiting, expression guarded.

"Was there something you wanted?" He asked, finally. She resisted the urge to say 'nothing' and leave, even if she was beginning to feel overwhelmed by shame.

"Yes. I… I came to apologize." She said, dropping her eyes from his gaze.

"Apologize…?" He said, sounding confused, which only made her feel more ashamed. He thought her incapable of realizing how dishonorable she had been—she supposed she couldn't blame him for that.

"Yes. What I did was cruel, shameful, and absolutely reprehensible–I do not expect or ask for your forgiveness, but I wanted to express to you that I am deeply sorry for it." Pyrrha said, rushing out the words as if saying them more quickly would absolve her. The silence grew heavy as she awaited judgement—but part of her felt lighter now, having gotten that off of her chest. She had vowed to do it some day, but having no way of contacting a Britannian prince she had allowed herself to put it off. Seeing him again the day before had brought it all back to the forefront of her mind…

"…uh… I appreciate the sentiment, but I have no idea what you're apologizing for." He said. Pyrrha's mind drew a blank.

"What?" She said, meeting his age once more and seeing a glimmer of uncomfortable confusion there. "But, how, how is that possible?" She asked. The prince smiled politely, clearly not understanding the magnitude of her alarm.

"Maybe you should tell me what you're apologizing for, first?" The prince suggested, and the mix of fear and shame and irritation that that dredged up in Pyrrha was a problem that she had to move quickly to address.

"I'm apologizing for mocking you, trying to seriously injure you, and refusing to acknowledge you as a worthy opponent." Pyrrha said, forcibly keeping the tremor out of her voice. She was surprised to see his expression soften somewhat at that.

"Ah. Well… I appreciate your apology, then, and accept it." He said, which threw Pyrrha's emotions into disarray yet again.

"Y-you—just like that? But… how? Why?" Pyrrha asked, dumbfounded.

"To be honest, when you followed me over here I was worried you were going to challenge me to a duel of some sort. This is a pleasant surprise." He said.

"A—a duel? Why would I challenge you to a duel?" Pyrrha asked.

"It was the theory that seemed to make the most sense, after how you'd acted during our last battle." He said, and Pyrrha went back to feeling ashamed. He seemed to notice that immediately, however.

"—But again, there's no need for you to feel ashamed—I can sympathize with your perspective. If anything, I think you're far more honorable than most for holding your insults to a stranger against yourself for this long." He said, making Pyrrha feel slightly better.

"It's just… I don't know if you know, but the woman you saved that day was my mother." She saw something light up deep in his eyes at that, and a sort of compassion well up that she felt she really didn't deserve. "I owe you a deep debt for that." She said.

"Ah." He said, looking down. "Well, then… thank you for your apology. In repayment for your debt," he met her eyes again, "I ask that you stop holding your past actions against yourself. You're clearly a decent, honorable person; move forward, knowing that. You came to get my forgiveness, and you have it, but it would be easy to forget to forgive yourself. Don't let such small mistakes tie you down." He looked past her for a moment. "It looks like your team is expecting you." He said. Pyrrha glanced back, and saw her friends all looking across the room at her.

"So it would seem…" She said, looking back at him. "Thank you, your highness." She said, quietly. He chuckled.

"Lelouch is fine. See you around, then." He said, and with that, he went to go join his table. Feeling better, if somewhat exhausted and emotionally confused, Pyrrha went to rejoin her team.

It was going to be an interesting year.


	3. A Prideful Combat

It was going to be an interesting year. The most interesting of his life, really—that he'd been able to get into Beacon at all had been a miracle, and to end up with teammates as cool as his… well, he'd been lucky.

"Hey Pyrrha!" Jaune said, smiling as his teammate arrived at their table. "Who's that guy you were talking to? It seemed like—" he realized a little too late that Pyrrha's expression was less cheery than usual, "you looked like you were having a, uh, interesting conversation…" She smiled back at him, though she still looked a bit distracted.

"It wasn't important." Pyrrha said lightly, sitting down across from him and immediately reaching for a tray of chicken.

"Wasn't—wasn't important!?" Weiss exclaimed, pointing back at the purple-eyed boy Pyrrha had been talking to, who looked like he was in the middle of scooping some salad onto his plate. "You were fraternizing with that—that fiend! What on Earth could you possibly have had to say to him?" Weiss' eyes narrowed. "Does this have to do with you 'owing him' something?" She demanded.

"Ah… well…" Pyrrha was looking distinctly uncomfortable, which made Jaune uncomfortable. He was her leader, and Weiss was being so aggressive—but he liked Weiss!

"We'd like to know too, Pyrrha." Nora said, quietly. Her and Ren were staring at Pyrrha as well, something like distrust in their eyes—which was even worse than Weiss' disapproval. Why was everyone so upset with Pyrrha talking to some student she knew? He glanced over at Ruby, Yang, and Blake, but they were all looking between Pyrrha and Weiss like some sort of a fight was about to break out. Luckily, Jaune noticed a distraction just in time.

"Hey, look, Professor Ozpin's up on the stage!" He said, pointing to the far end of the hall. At the same time, the professor tapped his microphone three times to get everyone's attention. Jaune quietly sighed in relief. Weiss shot one last suspicious glare Pyrrha's direction, but then turned to face Ozpin's podium.

"Good afternoon, students. I have a brief announcement to make." He paused, taking a sip of coffee that the microphone sent reverberating around the room. Everyone winced.

"I'm sure," Ozpin continued, "that many of you have noticed some students in your classes who were not present at initiation. As it happens, we have four first year students who were regrettably unable to arrive in time; they have, however, been admitted and assigned to their own team, and will continue to participate as members of your class. Could Suzaku Kururugi, Kallen Stadfeldt, C.C., and Lelouch vi Britannia please stand?"

Murmurs and whispers broke out after that last name as the two—wait, three?—students who had been sitting with the boy Pyrrha had been talking to, and the boy himself, stood up.

"From this day on, for the next four years, you will be a part of team—" Ozpin paused for a moment, sighed, and continued, "limerick…s."

The silence following that was deafening. Jaune blinked, twice. That… that couldn't be right.

"If you're wondering, the team name will be spelled LCKS, and the team will be led by Lelouch vi Britannia. Welcome, team LCKS, to Beacon. That is all." Ozpin said, leaving the stage a bit faster than was strictly necessary. The newly christened team LCKS stood awkwardly for a second longer before the black-haired boy began to sit and the others quickly followed suit.

"Aren't… aren't limericks a kind of poem?" Jaune asked.

"Yes." Blake, Weiss, and Ren said simultaneously, before glancing around at each other in surprise.

"But… aren't all the team names supposed to be colors?" Nora asked.

"Limerick is also technically a shade of green." Weiss said, matter of factly.

"Wow—how did you know that, Weiss?" Ruby asked.

"Long hours of tutoring." Weiss said, looking proud of herself. It was pretty amazing how much Weiss knew.

"Still, even if limerick is a color, the plural wouldn't be…" Blake said, thoughtful.

"I'm not sure there are many, if any colors that correlate to L, C, K, S." Ren said.

"I mean, there has to be something! Maybe…" Ruby started to say, then looked a bit sheepish as she became the center of attention. "L…licks?" Everyone stared at her for a moment.

"No." Weiss said. "It's probably the best name possible with those letters. If they wanted better, they should've gotten here on time, when it was still possible to have a team with a more recognizable color name. It's not like it matters that much, anyways."

"Hmm, I don't know, Weiss… maybe that's just your ozpinion?" Yang said, grinning. The table members collectively groaned. "Oh, come on—that one was pretty good!"

"Ugh, Yang, you're the worst!" Ruby said, tugging on her cloak.

"Aw, Rubes—Don't go sistabbin' me in the back like that!" Yang said, grin growing wider.

"Alright, stop that." Weiss said, crossing her arms. "Now, I believe it's time we resolve our previous topic of conversation." She looked pointedly at Pyrrha. Jaune felt the atmosphere begin to tense up again, and glanced back and forth between Weiss and Pyrrha, who had folded her arms too and was evenly meeting Weiss' glare.

"Respectfully, Weiss, it's hardly any of your business." Pyrrha glanced around at the rest of the table, and sighed. "But, I can see that you're all curious. It's just… it's not a story I particularly enjoy telling."

Jaune wanted to reach across the table, put his hand on her shoulder, and tell her that she didn't have to tell them it if she didn't want to… but would that be too presumptuous? How would she take it? If it was just him, he didn't think he'd necessarily take the chance, but wasn't it his responsibility as team leader?

Before he could do anything, though, Ruby beat him to the punch.  
"Pyrrha, if you don't want to talk about it, that's okay." She said, smiling softly at the red-haired girl. "We can wait for another time, if you even want to share it at all." The brown haired girl stared up at Weiss for a moment, and it looked like the two were having some sort of battle of wills.

"Well—fine." Weiss said, throwing up her hands in irritation. Pyrrha at least looked relieved.

The rest of lunch was quiet and a bit tense, though he and Yang did their best to keep up the conversation. Weiss and Pyrrha went out of their way to not look at each other, Nora and Ren continued to be unusually solemn, and Jaune felt uneasy about the whole thing.

Finally, lunch being over, they headed to their next class—their first one taught by Professor Goodwitch. It was at the practice stadium, a pretty long walk away from the mess hall. To Jaune's dismay the awkward atmosphere continued to hover over them like a thundercloud no one wanted to mention. Ruby and Blake at least contributed to the conversation, but with half of both their teams remaining silent it just felt really off. It was a relief when they all shuffled into the benches overlooking the stadium, and Professor Goodwitch began to speak.

"Welcome, students, to your first day of Sparring 101. In this class, you will compete against each other as if you were fighting in a tournament. Each battle shall be a duel, with one combatant chosen automatically by myself and the other combatant chosen by the first. You will fight until one of your aura's has been drained into the red, as is indicated by the meter on your scroll—on the off chance you have not yet downloaded one of the applications that does so, I've sent you all a link to the program I prefer." Jaune could've sworn she'd directed that last comment at him. It even seemed like she'd glared directly at him, although he supposed it could've been anyone on his side of the room… still, his palms began to sweat a bit. There was no way she could know, right?

"Now, since it's the first day and I understand how this could be lovely stressful, I won't force one of you to go first if you don't have to. Are there any volunteers?" Glynda said. There was a pause for a moment.

"Heh. I'll go." Someone said.

"Cardin Winchester, very well. I appreciate your enthusiasm. Who do you choose as your opponent?" Glynda asked as Cardin stood and scanned the room.

"Her." He said, pointing to a dog-eared faunus girl Jaune didn't know.

"Lucille Herra, do you accept his challenge?" Glynda asked. Lucille stood.

"I do." She said, and her and Cardin were directed down to what Jaune presumed were locker rooms.

It was the first fight between hunter and huntress Jaune had seen at Beacon, and it was exilerating—and also a bit intimidating. Cardin clearly had the strength advantage; he was pulverizing the ground with every hit. The faunus girl had the advantage in speed and agility, chopping at Cardin with twin hand axes from unexpected angles and getting in her fair share of hits as she dodged and rolled around her much larger opponent. Ultimately, though, Cardin finally managed to get in a good hit, an overhead crushing blow that Lucille hadn't managed to roll out of the way of in time. Jaune winced as her aura dropped from high yellow into low red.

"That's enough. Cardin has emerged as the winner of this contest—well done, both of you." Glynda said. Cardin smirked.

"Heh. That was easy." He said, turning his back on the faunus girl, who glared daggers at him. Jaune frowned. That wasn't the way you were supposed to treat a fallen opponent in a tournament—even someone like him knew that.

Several more fights went by, each pretty similar to the first one, though none of them ended as rudely. He even got to see Ruby and Nora compete, which was fun, though he was beginning to seriously dread being called on. His nervousness had sprouted into full-on anxiety by the time Glynda was preparing to call on the last bout of the day. Being the last would be terrible—the last thing anyone would remember would be him getting his butt kicked.

"The last name on our roster for today is—" Glynda paused, checking her clipboard, and Jaune could barely bare to wait—"Weiss Schnee."

Jaune breathed a sigh of relief as the white-haired heiress stood from her seat. He was close enough to make out her expression, and was alarmed to notice that she had a look of fierce determination on her face.

"I challenge Lelouch vi Britannia." She declared. Oh… well, this was going to be interesting. He really did admire how bold she was. The class exploded into whispering, and Jaune swore he could see a few people exchanging money. Were they seriously taking bets?

"Quiet down, class." Glynda said, smacking her riding crop against her hand in an innocuous sort of way. The echoing sound was enough to make everyone freeze, however, even Jaune—and he hadn't moved or said a thing. Glynda turned to where the black-haired boy sat.

"Lelouch vi Britannia, do you accept this challenge?" She asked. The boy sat for a moment, and then stood. He looked pretty frail, Jaune thought—though, then again, Weiss looked pretty delicate herself. Looks probably weren't the best judge of fighting strength.

"I do." The boy said.

"Very well—you both have a minute to prepare yourselves." Glynda said, smacking her palm again for emphasis. As soon as they were certain she'd stopped talking, the whispering began again. Weiss began to make her way past them.

"You can do it, Weiss!" Ruby said, smiling at her. Weiss gave her a small nod.

"Good luck!" Jaune said, receiving no such nod.  
"Kick his butt, Weiss-cream!" Yang said.

"Stop calling me that." Weiss said, without much actual hostility.

Weiss disappeared down the stairs, and their two teams began to speculate immediately.

"Think she's going to win?" Yang asked.

"I don't know… from what I've heard, Britannian royalty aren't always trained in combat, but when they are, they can afford the best equipment, and the best teachers." Blake said.

"I guess, but Weiss's family's super rich too, right? And she's so strong—I'm sure she can do it." Ruby said.

"I wouldn't be." Pyrrha said—the first thing she'd said in the last hour.

"Pyrrha…" Jaune began, not really sure what to say. He hadn't seen this side of her before—then again, he hadn't really known her for that long, had he?

"I don't mean to say that I think Weiss is weak—I'm sure that she is one of the most capable combatants in our class." Pyrrha looked around at the other's expressions, and sighed. "It's just that… well, I've fought him before."

Jaune wasn't sure he'd heard right. "You… what?"

"It's a long story." Pyrrha said, folding her arms. "I'll fill you in on it some other time…" she looked up at Ren and Nora in particular, who had been avoiding her gaze since lunch but now stared at her in shock. Jaune glanced around at the others, and saw similar expressions. Even Blake looked a bit alarmed.

"It's… it's not a story that I'm proud of. For now, suffice it to say that I fought him in a tournament. I defeated him then, but he was no pushover, and I have no idea how much he's progressed since." Pyrrha finished, now staring down into her lap.

"Huh…" Yang said, frowning a little. "I hope Weiss knows what she's getting into."

At that moment, the stadium doors nearest to them opened, and Weiss stalked out, white combat skirt bouncing and rapier at her side.

The other doors opened shortly after, and the Britannian prince strode out, taking much longer to reach the central platform. His clothes—an unfamiliar military uniform all in black, with a half-cape billowing off of his right shoulder—were a stark contrast with Weiss's, though both had dashes of crimson included as highlights. Jaune was surprised to see a rapier hanging at his side, as well, though unlike Weiss he had what looked like a dagger hanging from the other.

The two combatants stopped at the customary spots in the circle.

"Greetings, Miss Schnee." The Britannian prince said, bowing slightly.

"I hope you're prepared to lose, Britannian." Weiss replied, pointedly not returning the favor. Jaune winced—that seemed a bit rude.

"Are you both ready?" Glynda asked. The two of them nodded. Weiss drew her sword and assumed a ready stance, and the prince drew his blades and did the same. Jaune heard Ruby gasp and say something he couldn't quite make out aside from the word 'cool'.

"Very well." Glynda backed out of the circle. "On my mark: three, two one—begin!"

The word had barely even been spoken when Weiss made a glyph and launched herself towards her opponent. Jaune was shocked and impressed by the speed of that attack—but then was totally flabbergasted when the Britannian prince dodged out of the way. It wasn't even a dodge, exactly—it looked as if he'd stepped aside just enough for her to go past. Weiss stopped herself with another glyph, and launched herself again, but the Britannian pulled the same trick, slipping away just far enough that her blade went past.  
Weiss stopped herself again and switched tactics, activating a switch on her blade and plunging it into the ground. A wave of ice sprung out in the Britannian prince's direction, and he was forced to leap aside—but he rolled back up to his feet and began to advance.  
Weiss summoned more glyphs, launching herself back and forth between them faster than Jaune could even see, stabbing at the Britannian—but he seemed to dodge or block every strike, even so. His sword and dagger were in the right place every time.  
Weiss jumped off of the last glyph and rushed in, stabbing and slashing repeatedly at the Britannian, who parried and parried until Weiss slashed a little too wide—and then suddenly his sword seemed to leap forward out of nowhere, stabbing straight at Weiss' head. Weiss flinched back, backpedalling for a step, and then the boy began his offensive, stabbing and slashing at Weiss just as quickly as she had been doing a moment before as she desperately backed up and blocked.  
At last she backflipped under one of his slashes, came up into a crouch, leapt up to a glyph she'd placed just above his head, then launched herself back down at him at lightning speed.  
The Britannian prince jumped backwards, hit the ground and then rolled to his feet. Weiss was already charging, having launched herself with a glyph, blade pointed directly at the prince's face. In a blur of movement, the prince rolled to the side, then stuck out his blade.  
With a thwack that echoed around the room and made everyone wince, Weiss slammed into the blade stomach-first. She seemed to fold in half around it. Her rapier went flying off of the field, and she slid to the floor, gasping for breath.

"That's enough." Glynda said, startling Jaune. It… it couldn't be over already, could it? But looking up to the leaderboard, Weiss' aura said otherwise. That one hit had drained it almost to empty. Jaune believed it, but… wow. Poor Weiss…

"N-no…" Weiss said, gasping. The Britannian prince offered her a hand, but she smacked it away. "This… this isn't over." She said. The Britannian prince said nothing, but turned to walk away.

"It is for today, Miss Schnee. You've both fought well, but Lelouch vi Britannia is the winner." Glynda said. "That is all for today—dinner should be ready soon. You are dismissed."

Jaune didn't know what to think or how to feel. On one hand, he felt pretty bad for Weiss, but on the other, she'd basically brought this on herself. He glanced up as Ruby rushed by, followed by Yang and Blake. Deciding he could think about it later, he stood, walking with the rest of his team towards the exit.

This had been quite a day. 


	4. A Curious Evening

This had been quite a day.

Suzaku let Lelouch pass by him as he watched the white-haired girl's teammates help her up. He caught an all too familiar look of helpless hatred in her eyes as she glared at his old friend.

"She's not going too forget this, you know." He said, looking back at Lelouch, His friend sighed.

"I know." He said.

"Wasn't the whole point of this supposed to be going somewhere where you wouldn't be hounded by enemies every day?" Suzaku asked.

"Yes, it was." Lelouch replied, a note of irritation seeping into his voice. "It looks like I'm doomed to make enemies wherever I go." He chuckled at that, though it lacked any real humor. Suzaku caught up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You've made friends, too. Don't forget that." He said. Lelouch looked back, seemed to consider that for a moment, then smiled.

"So I have. I must thank you again for agreeing to come along with me on this…" Lelouch waved his hand, failing to find accurate words. Suzaku understood—it wasn't exactly a vacation, but it wasn't exactly studying abroad, either. It wasn't even an exile.

"As if Milly would've let me turn you down." Suzaku said, grinning. They both laughed at that.

"Ah.. I wish she could have come, too. She would've loved it here." Lelouch said.

"I don't know—she seems to enjoy being lord and master of the student body a lot more than combat training." Suzaku observed, and Lelouch chuckled again.

"True, true—but that's what I meant. I can't really put my finger on why, but it seems like this might be the kind of school that's filled with drama and secrets around every corner. She'd fit in better than any of us." Lelouch's smile faded. "Speaking of which—how's your partner doing?"

"Kallen? She said she was going back to the room." Suzaku saw Lelouch frown a little at that. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Lelouch said. People who didn't know him as well might have believed that, but the twitch of his left eyebrow gave him away. Suzaku raised his own, waiting. Lelouch rolled his eyes.

"All right, fine. I'm a bit concerned that we haven't exchanged more than a few sentences in the weeks since we left Mistral. I get the impression she's been avoiding me." Lelouch said, idly scratching his head.

"Huh…" Suzaku said, scratching his head. "I hadn't realized."

"Yeah. I haven't pressed the issue yet, but I'm starting to wonder." Lelouch looked thoughtful. "How long have you known her again, Suzaku?"  
Suzaku sighed. "Lelouch, you don't have to worry about Kallen. I think I'd know if my own partner was a spy or an enemy agent."

"That's exactly what someone whose partner was secretly a spy or an enemy agent would say." Lelouch said, staring pointedly at him. Suzaku scowled.

"Even if that were true, I met her on the first day of my first semester, and that's when we became partners—which was a full year before you came by. Unless she came back in time to spy on you, of course." Suzaku said, frowning as if he was deep in concentration. "Oh no… one of your siblings must have invented a time machine and sent an agent back to become my partner for a year so she could follow you to Beacon Academy and report on your academic progress! We must protect you from her prying eyes." Suzaku said. He raised his eyebrows at Lelouch, and it was Lelouch's turn to scowl.

"Look, I was just asking. I didn't even think her being some sort of agent is a likely possibility. If she were a spy, I'd think she'd have tried to get close to me or at least remain as innocuous as possible. If she were some sort of assassin, she had plenty of opportunity in the previous few weeks to make an attempt. I'm just worried that she might be afraid of me for some reason, or have some sort of a crush on me. If that's the case, _we're_ going to end up being the ones generating the drama in this place, and teamwork will be that much harder." Lelouch looked up, and his face schooled itself into a completely neutral expression. "Speaking of drama…" He said, and flicked his eyes forward. Suzaku turned to look, and blanched.

Professor Goodwitch did not look happy. On hearing their footsteps, she wheeled to face them, and while her expression maintained its normal stern mask, her eyes screamed murderous rage.

"Excuse me, students," She began in a rather clipped tone, "have either of you by any chance done something with my riding crop?" Suzaku shook his head, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Lelouch stiffen. Goodwitch rounded on Suzaku's unfortunate friend, a lioness cornering her prey.

"Do you have something to say, Mr. vi Britannia?" She said, terrifyingly calm. He began to shake his head—then, there was a clatter, as the riding crop fell from somewhere above them and landed on the ground between Lelouch and the professor. They all stared at it for a moment. Suzaku quickly knelt down and picked it up, offering it to the professor. She took it out of his hands, shot a glare at the both of them, then whirled around and stalked away. Presumably she'd gone to hunt the culprit upstairs instead.

Once she was gone, Suzaku breathed a sigh of relief, but Lelouch's expression had morphed into one of not insignificant rage.

"Tell me, partner, how exactly does antagonizing the professor against me help either of us?" Lelouch said, staring at nothing. Suddenly, everything clicked for Suzaku.

"It amuses me." C.C. said, and now Suzaku could see her, draped over Lelouch's shoulders, kind of like a really big cat.

"Any chance we could convince you to announce yourself more often?" Suzaku tried, for what must have been the seventieth time. She merely smirked at him, not deigning to answer. It irked him a little, if he was totally honest. He had no idea where Lelouch had picked the girl up or how she'd become his partner; whenever he asked, Lelouch stonewalled him, and Suzaku had accepted that there were some things his friend wanted kept secret. He could certainly appreciate how having the help of someone like C.C. could be useful, especially to someone in Lelouch's situation, but having had to live with her for weeks—and now the foreseeable future—he was glad he was rarely the target of the drawbacks of that particular situation—and oh, were there drawbacks.

After Lelouch had managed to get C.C. off of him, they headed out onto the main avenue. It was a beautiful day outside—the skies were clear, the sun was still fairly high in the sky, and there was a cool breeze blowing down the road. Some of the other students were hanging around after class, talking amongst themselves. To Suzaku's surprise, a couple of them approached the two of them as they walked along.

"Soooo…" One brown haired boy said, looking up and down the street like he was checking to see if he'd been followed. He had, of course—there were several more students nearby, but apparently they didn't really seem to matter. "You're Lelouch, right?" He said, staring at Lelouch—and completely ignoring Suzaku. Rude.

"…yes." Lelouch said, frowning slightly.

"Is it true—are you really a prince?" A deer-antlered faunus girl asked, blushing as if she'd just asked him on a date. Lelouch stared at her, his expression returning to neutral but with growing concern in his eyes.

"Yes. Technically." He said, curtly.

"What d'you mean by 'technically'?" Someone else asked—a blonde-haired boy asked from the other end of the small crowd that was beginning to form. Suzaku and Lelouch had been forced to stop completely by this point. Lelouch was beginning to look concerned and irritated.

"There are subtleties to what the title of 'prince' means in Britannia," Lelouch said, trying to inch his way around the crowd. The crowd was having none of it.

"What kind of subtleties?" Someone else asked. Lelouch raised an eyebrow.

"Do you honestly want me to explain the complexities of Britannian succession to you?" He responded.

"Ye—" They began.

"How'd you get to be so strong?" Someone else asked, and that seemed to be the real question they were looking for, because everyone was suddenly totally silent.

"I… trained. A lot." Lelouch said. The crowd was not satisified.

"What's your semblance?" Someone else asked.

"Do your weapons transform?" Yet another someone else asked.

"Do you have a castle?" Asked still another one.

"Are you in a serious and/or committed relationship?" Asked a boy near the front with shockingly violet hair and entirely too much adoration in his eyes. Lelouch looked like he was beginning to panic, and Suzaku was seriously considering just clearing the crowd with his semblance.

"Yes, he is." C.C. responded from what Suzaku had believed to be an unoccupied space on Lelouch's other side, to his alarm. The crowd gasped.

"H-he… he is in a serious and/or committed relationship?" The violet-haired boy asked, looking heartbroken.

"Indeed. He and I have a special partnership." She said, pressing herself close to Lelouch's side. Suzaku blinked. Surely not…

Then he saw the volcano of irritation that was erupting in Lelouch's eyes. C.C. might have gone too far.

"That's not what this is at all—damn it C.C., Get off of me!" He said, trying to pull himself out of the green-haired girl's grasp, eliciting a gasp of shock from the crowd.

"That's so cruel!"

"How could he treat her like that, in front of everyone?"

"H-he must be one of those evil, tyrannical kind of princes."

"He could lock me up in his dungeon any day…"

That last one came from the violet-haired boy, and some of the crowd paused in their booing of Lelouch to stare at him. "What?" He said, blushing.

Lelouch, meanwhile, was desperately looking around for a way out of the situation, and had still not managed to pry C.C. off. Suzaku decided to lend a hand.

"Attention, everyone—as Lelouch's official representative, I'm afraid he won't be able to answer any more questions until the party in the royal suite. Now, I'm only going to say this once; this is location information for a private audience with his majesty, and since we don't want to invite too many people, those who know where it is are expected to keep it completely secret. Is everyone listening?" They were. "Now, the party's going to be—"

He blanched. "W-wh… what in the world are Ozpin and Port _doing_ over there?" He shouted, pointing. Everyone turned to look. Smiling, he grabbed Lelouch and C.C. by the waist—not hard given how closely they were pressed together—and gathered all of his strength. It was harder with the three of them, but he activated his semblance and pushed off of the ground, launching them into the sky. He gathered the air underneath them, propelled them rapidly through the air towards a nearby tree, and then cushioned the landing in their branches so that barely a leaf rustled. The crowd turned around, realized that their subject had disappeared, then cried out in shock. They stuck together for a moment, searching around for the three of them, but they gave up pretty quickly.

"So that's what it's like to be famous, huh. Thanks, Suzaku. Without your quick thinking," Lelouch glared at C.C., "I don't know what I would have done," he finished, before collapsing back onto a branch in mental exhaustion.

"You can thank Milly for that one. She had me pull the same trick to get her away from a band of overeager suitors, once." Suzaku said, then turned to C.C. "Anything to say for yourself?" Suzaku asked the green-haired girl, who smirked.

"It was fun." She said. She laid back onto her own branch. "I don't suppose you'd understand, Mr. white knight."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Suzaku asked, crossing his arms.

"You're dull. It makes you hard to tease. Not like this tyrannical prince over here." She patted Lelouch's knee. Suzaku wasn't sure whether he felt insulted or lucky. A bit of both, maybe.

"Remind me again why I deign to keep you around, C.C.?" Lelouch growled, still staring up at the canopy.

"Because we're partners, you and I. Because I will never abandon you and I will never leave your side, not unless you truly need me to." She said, with a seriousness that gave Suzaku goosebumps. What in the world… exactly how serious was their relationship, anyway?

"And most importantly, because having me around is the closest you'll ever get to being in the arms of an attractive young woman." C.C. said. Lelouch sat up, something between outrage and embarrassment flitting across his face, and opened his mouth to issue what was almost certainly going to be a stinging rebuke—and then the branch gave way beneath him with a sharp **_crack_** and he dropped down out of sight.

Suzaku dropped out of the tree, landing softly next to Lelouch, who was beginning the process of picking himself up. C.C. dropped down beside them as Lelouch brushed off his outfit. Lelouch stopped for a moment, stared at his clothing, and sighed.

"Suzaku, how long do we have before dinner?" He asked. Suzaku reached into his pocket and took out his watch—his father's watch, he remembered with a pang of regret.

"About half an hour." He said after doing a quick calculation.

"Well, apparently I've forgotten to change back into my uniform, and I could probably use a shower after that fight, so I'm going to go back to the locker room. You and C.C. should head to the dorms and rendezvous with Kallen, and then we can all meet up at the mess hall." Lelouch said.

"No." C.C. said, politely.

"No? What do you mean, no?" Lelouch asked.

"No, you're not sending me off with Suzaku. We're partners." C.C. said.

"C.C…" Lelouch said, tone growing a little dangerous, "you are _not_ going to watch me shower."

"What? How could you suggest such a thing?" C.C. said, covering her heart with a hand in what was rather obviously fake shock.

"C.C.—" Lelouch began.

"I'm serious, Lelouch. I'm not letting you out of my sight," She said. She sounded more determined than lecherous this time.

"…well, fine. But if I catch you looking at me once…" Lelouch trailed off ominously, and C.C. rolled her eyes—apparently that was enough for Lelouch, as he then turned to Suzaku.

"I'll see you soon, then—make sure your partner isn't plotting some sort of assassination attempt in our room." Lelouch said, mostly joking. Suzaku chuckled.

"Will do. Have fun, you two." He said, leaving with Lelouch's frustrated sigh behind him.

It didn't take very long to get to the dorm room. He opened the door without thinking, only to realize too late that Kallen might not be fully decent. Thankfully, she was completely clothed as he walked through the door, although her deer-in-the-headlights look suggested he might have interrupted something private. His eyes flickered to the title of the book she was reading. Huh… he'd seen her read books before, but he hadn't realized that Kallen was a 'Ninjas of Love' kind of girl. She rapidly stuffed the book under her pillow, face blushing red, and Suzaku felt his own face heat up more than a little.

"Ah, um, sorry—" He started.

"Nothing!" She said.

"…I didn't mean to—" He tried.

"—Is what I was doing. Nothing." She continued. They both stared at each other for a moment.

"So… dinner's going to be soon." He said.

"Dinner! Great. I'm glad." She said, expression somewhere between a smile and a grimace. The awkward silence returned.

"I'll just… wait outside." Suzaku said, backing slowly out of the doorway before easing the door behind him. He stared at the closed door for a moment, then decided to lean against the opposite wall and wait as he tried to figure out exactly what had just happened. It didn't take him long to decide that it was maybe a good idea to never think about or mention that particular encounter again.

After another minute or so, Kallen came out and looked him straight in the eye.

"So, we're just going to pretend you didn't see anything just then, right?" She said, more of a demand than a question. Suzaku nodded.

"Good. So, what've you been up to?" She asked. Suzaku was eager to embrace a new topic.

"Mostly saving Lelouch from a crowd of adoring fans, if you can believe it." He said. Kallen stared at him.

"What?" She asked. Suzaku chuckled, then filled her in on the events of the afternoon.

"Wow—I can't believe you had to pull one of Milly's tactics, of all things." She said, grinning, but after a moment, her grin faded. "I hope she's doing alright without us."

"Of course she is." Suzaku said, smiling. "Milly's got an entire school to terrorize—us not being around just means some other innocent, unsuspecting students will be getting the Milly treatment."

"I guess I should probably be feeling bad for them instead of Milly." Kallen said, smiling. "I wonder who she's trying to play matchmaker with with us gone?"

"Probably Rivalz and Shirley." Suzaku suggested. Both of them laughed at that idea.

"Hey… so, that girl Lelouch fought today, she's the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, right?" Kallen asked. Suzaku nodded.

"I don't really understand why she has it out for Lelouch, but it seems like a good idea to stay out of her way from now on." He said. Kallen nodded.

"Yeah, sure… it's just, she seems really good. I feel like I would've had a tough time beating her." She paused.

"You really think you could?" Suzaku said, innocently.

"Wha—of course! I could beat her down any day. Some supportive partner you are, " Kallen said, before seeing his smile. "Oh, hah hah, very funny. Look, that's not what I'm talking about." She said.

They both moved aside to let some other students pass, pausing their conversation.

"What I'm getting at," Kallen continued, "is that your royal highness friend wiped the floor with her. How the heck did he even get that strong?" She finished. Suzaku frowned.

"To be honest, I'm not really sure." He said. His partner stared back at him, a bit incredulous.

"Hey, it's the truth. You can always go and ask him yourself." He said. She blanched at that.

"No, that's fine." She said. Suzaku frowned.

"Is there something wrong?" He asked.

"It's fine." She said, crossing her arms. Which was to say, it was not fine.

"If you say so," He said, and paused. "Hey, just so you know, you can talk to me if you need to. I take my role as a supportive partner pretty seriously, after all." He said. That made her smile.

"Yeah… okay. It's not like it's a huge thing or anything. It's just that, I don't know…" she looked up at the ceiling. "I made my decision on this pretty fast, and now I'm on a completely different continent, at a completely new school…" She drifted off for a moment. Suzaku felt his stomach sink.

"Are you… I mean, have you reconsidered? I'm sure we could get you on an airship back if—" Suzaku began, but she glanced back sharply at that.

"No! Thank you, but… I'm fine with the decision I made. It's just taking a little adjusting to." She looked back down at her feet. "Mainly I'm just missing all my friends from back home."

"Oh. Yeah… I understand." Suzaku said, thinking for a moment. "Well, upside to a new school is that you get to make new friends, right?"

"I guess so. I kinda thought of that as more of a 'have to' than a 'get to'." Kallen said.

"Well, we're going to a school full of fighters with crazy weapons and crazier personalities." He smiled. "There're bound to be some fun people to talk to."

* * *

"Hi there! Is it all right if we sit here? Thank you so much." An orange-haired girl said with outrageous amounts of cheer, sitting down on the opposite side of the table.

"Ah…" Suzaku said, trying to find a polite way to tell her to leave. Nothing came to mind.

"Hey, that spot's taken." Kallen said. Bluntness was also a strategy, Suzaku supposed.

"Ooh, don't worry, we're just popping in for a quick chat—aren't we, Renny? We've got our own team to get back to in a sec." The girl said to a boy who'd approached slightly more slowly and now sat down into the spot that was nominally C.C.'s. Suzaku tensed up for a moment, but was glad that no green-haired girl appeared. It would've been just like her to have been sitting there the whole time.

"Yep." Renny said.

"Oh." Suzaku glanced over at Kallen, who shrugged.

"So, we were just walkin' around the other day, and we heard something a little funny. We checked around and confirmed it. So, now we're wondering…" the girl's stare hardened, "why someone from Mistral would ever get anywhere near _that ship_ , and also be all pal-sy with a Britannian prince." She finished, heavily emphasizing the 'ince' . It took Suzaku a moment to figure out that they were talking about him.

"I'm not sure I want to give an answer to those questions to people I don't know at all." He said, not sure what else to do. "I'm Suzaku Kururugi. What do you two call yourselves?" The two glanced at each other, and Suzaku began to feel like he'd entered into some kind of negotiation.

"I'm Nora Valkyrie, and this is Lie Ren. We're from team JNPR." Nora said.

"I'm Kallen. Nice to meet you." Kallen said, barely leaking any sarcasm.

"So—spill it, buster." Nora demanded, thumping her fist on the table. It would've been funny if she hadn't looked so serious.

"Well, first of all, it wasn't up to me. Second of all, Lelouch is an old friend. Does that answer your questions?" Suzaku asked.

"No, it does not! It wasn't up to you? An old friend? All you've done is give me more questions!" Nora stood, looming over Suzaku with murder in her eyes. He resisted the urge to shrink back in fear.

"Am I gonna have to break your legs?" She said, quietly… solemnly… as if it was a prayer. Suzaku reached for his sword, realized he didn't have it, began to panic internally and started to scan the table for some sort of utensil to defend himself with.

"Okay, did you just try to threaten my partner right in front of me?" Kallen asked, standing up as well.

"You wanna dance, girly?" Nora the terrifying demonic entity asked, reaching down to—was she going to pick up _the whole bench_?

"Who you calling girly? I could take you any day." Kallen replied, grabbing a full coffee mug. That didn't exactly fill Suzaku with confidence.

"Ohoho, I am going to make you eat those words— _and some teeth_." Nora the monster-from-Hell said, smiling.

"Ookay, that's enough of that." Ren said, standing up. "We may have gotten off on the wrong foot here. Sorry about all this."

"Wah—Aw, but Reeeeeen…" Nora said, demeanor changing almost completely.

"C'mon, Nora." Ren said, tugging her along by her jacket sleeve.

"This—this isn't over! _I know where you sleep_!" Nora shouted, before at last disappearing with he partner into the greater confusion that was the pre-dinner mess hall.

"What was that all about?" Lelouch asked, sitting down in the spot where, for Suzaku, the ghost of Nora still lingered.

"You don't want to know." Suzaku said. After getting a good look at his face, Lelouch seemed to concur with that.

The rest of dinner went pretty smoothly—just food, and talk, and a little more food, and more talk. It wasn't long at all before the four of them headed back to their dorms, finished the next day's homework, took turns taking showers, and went to bed.

* * *

Suzaku woke to a breath of cold air. It was still dark, and his vision was blurred with sleep, but there was definitely a pale sort of light. As his vision cleared up, he realized what it was—moonlight, pouring through an open window. Something was locking it, however. A figure…

Adrenaline brought him fully awake in an instant. An assassin?

No… he recognized that silhouette, leaning against the side of the window frame.

"Lelouch…?" He asked. Lelouch turned, glanced at him. There was something alien in his eyes, something that Suzaku had never seen before.

"You should go back to sleep, Suzaku." Lelouch said, turning back to stare at something outside of the window that Suzaku couldn't see. The moon?

"Why are you still awake?" He asked.

"I couldn't sleep. Nightmares." Lelouch replied. Suzaku thought a moment, then frowned.

"Why did you open the window?" Suzaku asked. "What are you…" A chilling sort of fear, colder than the wind coming through the window, crept down Suzaku's back, and he slowly slid out from under the warmth of his bed covers.

"Do you ever wonder about how easy it would be? How quickly it happens?" Lelouch asked, voice sounding distant."It could just take a single instant."

"Lelouch, what are you talking about?" Suzaku asked. Lelouch turned back to him, gaze bizarrely serene.

"Death, I mean. It could be so quick, so simple… all the struggle, all the pain, just gone." Lelouch said, not quite seeing Suzaku. Suzaku began to panic.

"Lelouch, I think you should step back from the ledge now." Suzaku said, trying to keep his voice eve, calm. This couldn't be happening.

"What?" Lelouch asked, before letting out a flat mockery of a chuckle. "Oh, no, I realize what this looks like—I'm not going to kill myself, Suzaku. I can't. Not yet."

"Then…" Suzaku couldn't even begin to imagine what was going on. "Why are you standing in the window?" He finally asked.

"I'm going out. Didn't want to risk being followed." Lelouch said. Suzaku noticed the sword clutched in his friend's right hand.

"Where?" Suzaku asked.

"Does it matter?" Lelouch replied.

"Yeah, it matters to me." Suzaku said. "What if something happened to you?"

Lelouch just shrugged. turning back towards the open window. They were three stories up…

"I can't let you do this." Suzaku said. Lelouch shook his head.

"Go back to sleep, Suzaku. I'll be back." Lelouch said. Before Suzaku could do anything about it, Lelouch hurled himself out of the window.

Suzaku rushed over to the now unblocked frame, only to see his friend land, roll, and sprint off into the darkness. Not knowing what else to do, he shut it tightly, though he didn't twist the lock. Feeling numb, cold, tired and confused, he stumbled past a still-snoring Kallen to his own bed, and lay back down. Before long, he'd fallen back asleep.

* * *

Running, flying through the night. Rage had boiled over. It filled every limb, made each muscle burn. It seemed limitless—it had been kept quiet for too long. Need to fight. Need to bleed. Need to kill.

The first two were beowolves, which was right. Prowling among the trees—oh the hatred of them burned brighter than all the rest. They were torn apart, eviscerated, decapitated. An ursa was next, then two more; then, a deathstalker. Then, it was beowolves again. They began to blur together, their dust began to coat the ground underfoot. Where were the rest? There had to be more. There was one—bisected. Keep coming. Keep going. Slice them to bits. Roar in defiance—don't stop. Never stop. Never…

Small, pale hands, reaching out from the black…

Slice. Cut. Stab. Rip. Tear. Destroy. Destroy. Destroy them all.

* * *

The Emerald Forest rang with the sounds of battle. A swordsman danced through the dark, weaving a waltz of annihilation for all Grimm who dared to approach, cackling laughter echoing through the woods, face wet with tears.

A green-haired woman followed, keeping a silent watch, unnoticed in the night.


	5. Vigilante Justice

Dark, ominous clouds drifted across the night sky, shrouding the moon and plunging the land into absolute darkness. Far below, though no one could see him, a figure emerged from the bushes where he had been hiding.

He rushed rapidly forward, running like a leopard on the hunt, swiftly arriving at the wall of the building where his target lay. He grinned as he threw his grappling hook with his powerful arms, just so as to catch the windowsill with the lightest of touches. His muscles rippled under his loose black clothing as he rose swiftly up the rope. He'd been waiting for this night, eager to dispatch this particular prey—and everything was going perfectly.

The window was locked, but he was the best in the business, and his hands were quick and clever. He played the lock like it was a musical masterpiece and his lockpicks were instruments, and after a moment it was open. The window lifted slowly, smoothly, and he slipped expertly through its narrow entrance.

He crept along the hall, towards the door he knew must be the entrance to the sleeping quarters. He looked through the doorway into the thick, billowing darkness—which was no match for his enhanced gaze—and realized that his quarry wasn't there. Light, however, shone out from under the doorway of a nearby bathroom, a beacon like a lighthouse in a dark sea of mystery. Stepping carefully, he approached its door, which was open just a crack. He heard a faucet turn on.

Gazing into the room through the crack, he saw his target—wet and glistening, wearing only a towel. The target must have just taken a shower—even his normally unkempt black hair had fallen flat. The target's muscles were firm, and the man peering through the door couldn't help but watch as they flexed and relaxed. In his distraction, he didn't fully realize when the target turned off the faucet, turned around, and headed toward the door. Sucking in what would have been a gasp, he dove behind the door, allowing the target to open it outward. He drew his knife, creeping up silently as his target walked forward towards a dresser.

It was now or never, he realized. He felt trepidation build inside of him—a surprisingly large part of him didn't want it to end here, but the rest of him was more than ready. This infuriating prince would no longer impede his masters' plans. He raised his knife, feeling the tension build up inside of him as the target bent over to open the dresser drawer. Finally, he leaped at the target, knife in hand, ready to plunge it into him again and again—but suddenly, the target's hand shot out, grabbing him by the throat and stopping him in mid-air.

"Got you. I was wondering who they'd send next." The target said, smirking as the predator-turned-prey squirmed in his hands. The knife had fallen to the floor as the assassin desperately tried to break the iron grip on his throat. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised—Ishiga Hattori, 'the moon's shadow'. Heh."

The target threw Ishiga against a wall, hard, knocking all the breath that was left out of him. Ishiga helplessly gasped for air, staring up at his tall target who now loomed high above him. It was too late… his target had already drawn his sword, though from where Ishiga did not know. Even now, Ishiga refused to let fear rule him, and glared up at the approaching figure in defiance.

"Do your worst, Karya." He spat. Karya laughed evilly.

"Very well, if you're so eager—but, since your attempt was truly so pitiful, I—Ashikana Karya, the demonblade—have decided to give you a choice." To Ishiga's surprise, the tall man reached down and slowly unfolded his towel. It fell to the floor, and Ishiga couldn't help but stare. It would seem that the man lived up to his title in more ways than one.

"Now," Karya said, grinning lecherously, a predatory hunger in his eyes, "you may choose this sword and death—" he flicked his katana so that if flashed in the light, whirring only and inch past Ishiga's face and making him flinch back, "or…"

Ishiga swallowed, hard. This hadn't been how he'd expecting the night to go, and his masters would probably punish him horribly if he returned empty-handed. On the other hand, he didn't want to die. Plus… it was rare he got such an offer. The job was always a lonely one, and besides, he had to admit that he was more than a little interested… he began to lean forward…

"Oh hey Kallen, I was just looking for—"

"Gaahah!" Kallen yelped, practically toppling off of her bed as she rushed to close _Ninjas of Love: The Moon's Shadow Tastes the Demon's Blade_ and shove it under her mattress. She quickly turned to face the intruder, hoping against hope that her face wouldn't betray what she'd just been doing.

"…you." The Britannian Prince Lelouch finished, cocking an eyebrow. Oh… shit.

"Hey! Hello. Did you need something?" Kallen asked, a little too quickly. The Prince paused for a moment, glancing quickly down at the mattress an then back at her. Kallen felt her face heat up even more, and bit back a curse. What did a girl have to do to get some goddamned privacy around here? True, it was everyone's room, but nobody else seemed to even consider knocking, which was not cool. She was going to bring that up at the next team meeting.

"Ah… actually, yes." The Britannian said, bringing Kallen's focus back to the present. "I've been wanting to talk to you, to get to know you better—it seems like we've barely spoken at all since we met."

"Ahah…" Kallen said, doing her best not to cringe. Shit shit shit shit… she'd managed to avoid this exact situation for weeks, and she'd hoped to keep it up for longer—she'd almost made it to the weekend. A whole week at Beacon spent dodging the person in front of her, gone to waste. She was so screwed…  
The Britannian prince started to look at her strangely, and so she tried to use a lighthearted laugh to brighten the mood. It ended up sounding more like a nervous cackle. "Ah, uh, any particular reason?" She stalled.

"Well, I'm your team leader—I'm supposed to know your strengths and weaknesses, how you'll react in a given situation, what kind of support you can provide and what kind of support you need." The Prince shrugged, taking a seat on his bed, which Kallen had made sure was on the far side from her own.

"B-but—you've got my file from Ashford, don't you?" Kallen stalled again, though she was rapidly realizing that she didn't really have any plan for how to get out of the situation—stalling now was stalling for stalling's sake. The prince seemed amused, and Kallen felt a little spark of anger enter the already volatile mix of emotions she was feeling. "What?" She demanded.

"Nothing!" The prince protested, waving his hand. "It's just that there's only so much I can learn about you from the file, and most of that isn't what I need to know. There're a couple of things I wanted to ask you about in particular. D'you have time to talk right now?" He asked.

"Yeah, sure-" slipped automatically out of Kallen's mouth before she could catch herself—damn it, that had been her out! Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh—

"I guess the first thing I'm wondering is…why did you decide to come along?" The Prince held up a hand. "Don't get me wrong—I'm not ungrateful that you did, far from it really—but it couldn't have been an easy choice." He said.

"Well…" well, Kallen couldn't tell the truth. The truth truth. Fortunately, there was still truth she could tell that wasn't the full thing—as she'd been taught, a partial truth is more believable than a lie.

"…I guess it was mostly to stick with Suzaku." She finally said.

"Oh?" The Prince said, eyebrow rising again—and Kallen suddenly realized what that might seem to imply.

"No! No, no, I don't mean like that." Kallen protested.

"Like what?" The Prince asked, a little too innocently.

"You know what you—look, never mind. I came because Suzaku and I have been partners for a year now, and we've been working pretty well together." Kallen said.

"Partners. Hm." The Prince said, tapping his finger to his chin.

"I just said it is not like that!" Kallen said, surprised to find that her previous fear was quickly being replaced by irritation.

"Noted." The Prince said, letting his hand fall back to his lap. Kallen saw his eyes narrow slightly, and tried to ignore the fear that was once again rising up, shouting at her to get away from this place. "But why follow Suzaku? Why him over everyone else you know?" The Prince asked.

"I mean, it wasn't just him…" Kallen fished for answers. Damn it was hard to concentrate under the stare of those weird purple eyes. The bastard was testing her, and she didn't know what the right answer was supposed to be. "It's not every day you get the offer to go and study at Beacon free of charge with a Britannian prince." She tried, hoping that he'd take the deflection bait.

"True, I suppose. What about your parents? I'd have thought the Lord Stadfeldt and his wife might have had some objection." He said. Kallen sighed—though she wasn't sure if it was relief or her aggravation at the thought of her 'parents'.

"Oh, as soon as they heard the words 'an imperial prince just asked if I would—' they couldn'tve cared less about what came after. You could've been asking to sacrifice me to the Grimm and theyd've at least thought about it." Kallen said. It disgusted her to think of them both—her father and his precious new woman.

"Oh." The Prince said. He paused for a moment, apparently thinking. "Ah… switching to another subject, I was also wondering if you could give me a personal assessment of your own and Suzaku's combat abilities."

"Huh. Ah, what kind of assessment?" She asked.

"Well, lets say, were I to pit the two of you against each other, who do you think would win and why?" The Prince asked, smirking in what Kallen could only assume was amusement when he saw her discomfort. It was an uncomfortable question. How the hell should she even begin to answer this?

"Um, I guess… probably Suzaku?" The eyebrow raised again, and she had to fight with herself to keep her gaze even with what felt like a pair of all-seeing demon eyes staring at her. "Because, well, I'm no pushover or anything—I could maybe beat him on a good day—but he's got more experience and he's a bit stronger, not to mention his semblance." She finished. The Prince began to laugh.

"Wh-what? Why are you laughing?" Kallen demanded.

"Heh…" The Prince settled back into his normal mask of mystery. "Suzaku said almost the same thing when I asked him about you. It seems you make a good pair." Kallen did not like the emphasis he'd put on that last part, but decided not to give him the satisfaction of a response. The conversation died down into a momentary lull.

"Well," Kallen asked, "anything else you wanted to ask?"

"No—I think I've learned enough for now." The Prince said, nodding once.

"Good! 'cause, I've got to go to lunch pretty soon, or the cafeteria will close up and I won't be able to concentrate until dinner." Kallen said as she stood up, her immense relief at having the opportunity to escape seeping into her voice. She could feel The Prince's eyes follow her out of the door, and tried to ignore the goosebumps popping up on her arms.

Well, she'd survived that, at least, and had even managed to not give anything away. All in all, much less horrible than she'd feared. Still, this was probably still the worst bad idea she'd ever had. It had taken a while for it to dawn on her just how absolutely ridiculously insane her initial plan had been, and by the time it had she'd been halfway to Beacon, thousands of feet above the ocean, and firmly lodged in the belly of the beast.

Speaking of bellies, she really did need to get to the cafeteria, especially now that she knew camping out in their room over lunchtime was not an adequate defense against having to talk to the creature she'd just left behind her.

The cafeteria was still mostly full of students by the time she got there. Kallen began to make her way towards her usual table when she saw someone out of the corner of her eye. Someone with orange hair, a plate full of pancakes, and narrowed eyes staring directly at her from a nearby table. Kallen felt her adrenaline kick in as the girl stood up, the rest of the conversation at her table quieting down.

The girl brought up her hand, took her first two fingers, pointed at her eyes, pointed at Kallen, and sat back down. Kallen… wasn't sure how to react to that. Apparently the girl—Nora! That was the name—was watching her. Probably because they'd challenged each other the other day?

Shaking her head, Kallen moved on towards the table where she normally sat—only to see that it was occupied. She was about to leave when her mind started to catch up to what exactly was going on at her table.

"Oww-that hurts! Please stop…" A rabbit faunus girl Kallen didn't recognize was saying, as someone Kallen did recognize was pulling on her ear. Wait, pulling on—that son of a bitch!

"Hey, asshole!" Kallen shouted, grabbing an unattended metal tray off of a nearby table. The asshole in question turned to stare at her, an arrogant smirk possibly even worse than that of The Prince's on his face.

"Oh, hey there, Candy." The garbage truck of a human being said, pulling a little harder on the rabbit faunus' ear. The poor girl let out a squeal of pain that was apparently hilarious to the trash heap's minions.

"Let. The girl. Go." Kallen said, emphasizing every word. The sack of feces laughed at that.

"What, sugarlips, are you gonna try and be a hero? That's cute." He said. Kallen could see the minions moving around behind her out of the corner of her eye.

"Let the girl go, and get the hell away from my table." Kallen replied, calmly.

"Make me." The refuse lump replied. She'd been hoping he would say that.

Before the three minions could grab her, she leapt forward and slammed the tray directly into the bully's face. It didn't break his aura, but it did send him flying—and he'd instinctually let the girl go to try and block her strike. Kallen turned to face the minions, who had formed a semicircle but were looking decidedly less sure of themselves than before.

"So, who's first?" She asked, picking up another tray. The three of them looked at each other, then ran nervously past her to go see to their team leader, who'd smashed into an unoccupied table and the dishes of food it had held, and was now thoroughly doused in salad.

"Thank you…" the rabbit girl said, sitting back down.

"It's no problem. I hate guys like that." Kallen replied. "I'm Kallen, by the way."

"Velvet—Velvet Scarletina." The girl replied with a smile. "You're new here, then?"

"Yeah, just got in this week. You?" Kallen asked.

"Oh, it's my second year." Velvet replied. Kallen wasn't sure she'd heard right.

"Wait—you're a second year?" Kallen asked, hand halfway towards a nearby baguette. Geeze, she was hungry.

"Yep—I'm on team CFVY." Velvet replied, picking at her salad.

"But, I mean, you…" Kallen glanced over at where the minions were picking up their leader, who shot her a hateful glare but seemed to have conceded the field for now. "You probably could've wiped the floor with those guys." She said.

"Yep, definitely." Velvet replied. "You're wondering why I didn't?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Kallen replied, surprised to see Velvet smile a sad smile.

"Well, I'm a pacifist." Velvet said. Kallen almost choked on her bread.

"But—you go to a school that trains warriors!" Kallen said, managing to get the bread down.

"I don't really see it that way." Velvet replied, looking thoughtful. "We're here to become protectors, not warriors." She looked back up at Kallen. "I mean, I'm not opposed to fighting the Grimm or anything, or even fighting for fun—tournaments and competitions and such. But I don't want to use violence against people if I don't have to. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Huh." Kallen said. That was an… odd… point of view, but it was a surprisingly kind one. "You're an interesting person, Velvet."

"Aw… I mean, we're all interesting people here." Velvet said, looking pleased.

They chatted about various things for the rest of lunch, and it was probably the best Kallen had felt since leaving Ashford. She got Velvet's scroll number, and they parted ways when the Cafeteria closed. Kallen had gained a friend. Maybe Suzaku was right…

Only one class left that day—the class whose name even Kallen, academically skilled as she was, could never fully remember.

"Welcome everyone to the last day of the overview portion of 'The History of Remnant: A Complete Overview and Deconstruction of the Major Events that Shaped and Continue to Shape Our World, Part 1'." Professor Oobleck announced, followed by an uncharacteristic sigh.

"Now… due to the persistent letter campaign and petition passed around by certain students, I have decided to relent just this once to your desire to learn some more recent history. For the next half hour—the next half hour, only, though I will of course be free to discuss anything any of you would like to discuss to a fuller extent during my office hours—I will give you an overview of the Sea War and answer whatever questions you may have." Immediately a hand shot up, and Oobleck visibly sighed. "Yes, Miss Schnee."

"In Atlas it was called the Sundering of Mistral or the Black Invasion." The girl said, matter-of-factly, and Kallen tensed up. Were… were they really going to talk about that, here? She pushed the memories and tumultuous emotions that even hearing the name stirred up inside her back down.

"I'm sure it was, Miss Schnee, but this is Vale, and Beacon. Here it is known as the Sea War. Now," he said, turning towards the white board. "No one is entirely certain when it all began, or what exactly it was that set this all off—what is certain, however, is where—the isle of Dawn." In an instant, he'd pulled down a map, grabbed a pointer stick and pointed at the narrow strip of land in the middle of the Abyssal Ocean that marked that isle—a spot Kallen knew well. All Mistralian schoolchildren did.

"A spot rich in resources, it was reached by Mistralian aero-explorer Zheng He, flying east from Anima," He tapped the continent on the map, and Kallen resisted the urge to roll her eyes—as if they didn't know where Mistral was! Hah—and watched as he pointed to the other side of the map, "and by Amelia Earhart, flying west from Albion, on exactly the same day; a truly remarkable coincidence if I say so myself. Now—" he turned to fully face the class, "initially, both Mistral and Britannia were willing to share this isle and its resources evenly, as they'd both found it at the same time. However, cultural clash, a number of diplomatic snafus and several resource distribution misunderstandings later, and the two nations were experiencing extreme friction. Now, it's easy to try and assign blame based on what followed, but it cannot be overemphasized that we do not know exactly what happened to spark off the initial conflict. All that we know for certain is that, a few days after the conflict began, the Britannian colonists had been pushed back into their fortress, and the Mistralians had laid claim to the entire island. Miss Schnee," He said, pausing, "I will answer questions after the overview."

The Heiress put her hand down, slowly.

"Now then. It only took a few more days for the Britannian counterattack to arrive, and when it did, the tide of the conflict turned completely. The Mistralian colonial guard were skilled enough, but a majority of their forces were untrained citizens unused to combat. Their opponents were an elite force of Britannian Knights that outnumbered them two to one. The fight was over swiftly; Britannia took all of the survivors as prisoners of war, and did not stop there." Oobleck paused, moving back towards the map.

"The Britannian Fleet met its Mistralian counterpart just over the horizon from Mistral's shoreline. Their battle would continue for the rest of the war, though the Britannians managed to land their vanguard by flying it through the cloud cover above using their air fleet. This corps was lead by Cornelia li Britannia, a Britannian princess." Oobleck said. Kallen's hands clenched on the edge of her table. Even just hearing that name… she shuddered.

"The vanguard advanced; with support from Cornelia's flagship and other elements of the air fleet, they broke through what defenses that the Mistralian Defense Force had prepared into southern Anima—the region then of Mistral that was called Nihon. From there on in, they made an unprecedentedly rapid advance up through southern Mistral, advancing up to and besieging the City of Mistral itself within a month." Oobleck followed the imaginary advance up the middle of Nihon—Kallen's home. The place she'd grown up in. How small that advance looked, just a little flick of a pointer stick across a map. How many lives did that chunk of land contain? How many had died there in those desperate weeks?

"It was at this point that Atlas answered the call of its old alliance and came to Mistral's aid, bringing its army, its battle fleets and its mecha to bear against the Britannian Expeditionary Force. With their help, the Britannians were pushed back to the chokepoint of the Kowareta Pass, though it was at great cost to both sides. There, after a month of negotiations, both sides signed a truce under the mediation of Vale, and the modern borders of Mistral and Britannia were established. Now, that concludes the direct events of the war. Are there any questions?" Oobleck said, turning back to the class. One boy near the front that Kallen didn't know raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Garno." Oobleck said.

"Ah, well, the Britannian knights—did they ride horses, like in fairy tales?" The boy asked, and Kallen had to laugh, earning a frown from Ooblek.

"Now now, Miss Stadfeldt, there is no such thing as a bad question. No, Garno, the Britannian knights had no horses—instead, they used their landspinners-devices much like motorized wheeled skis attached to the feet of their armored suits-which granted them unmatched speed on the battlefield. Next question?" Oobleck asked. A dog faunus girl raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Herra." Oobleck said.

"Ah… why didn't anybody else get involved? Why didn't Atlas get involved sooner?" She asked.

"That is quite the question! The answer I can give you now—the short answer, mind you—is that the other kingdoms viewed the war as one Mistral alone had provoked. Atlas ultimately stepped in when it realized that the Holy Britannian Empire was in a position to seize all of Anima for its own if Mistral fought against it alone. Now, next question." Oobleck said. The Schnee girl raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Schnee." Oobleck said, a note of resignation entering into his voice.

"Professor, what is your estimate of the civilian casualties of this war, and their cause?" Weiss asked, as if that was a normal question. Civilian casualties… Kallen shook her head to get the screams out of her ears.

"Both are difficult to say. For the first, estimates vary considerably. With Mistral and Britannia refusing to share their official documents, estimating the total casualties of the war is difficult. What is known is that the territory of Nihon was almost a quarter of Mistral's landmass and held about a sixth of its overall population. According to our best guesses… Nihon lost about a third of its people during the invasion." Oobleck said.

A gasp made its way around the room, an expression of unexpected horror that Kallen missed entirely. Her vision was back under a red sky, fire to her left and a dark abyss to her right, the screams of monsters out in the dark…

"And what was the cause of this massacre exactly, Professor?" The Schnee girl asked, a little too politely.

"This question is even harder than the last. Our view of this string of events has been so colored by the passing of time and the politics of the modern day, there's no real way of telling which version of the story is true." Oobleck must have noticed that the Schnee girl wasn't satisfied with that. "If you would like to propose your own theory, by all means, go ahead. You have two minutes before we return to the actual subject matter of today's lesson."

"Very well." The Schnee girl said, standing. "I was taught that the Britannians purposely rounded up swarms of Grimm and lured them into striking distance of Mistralian villages." She said, and a wave of whispers followed. Kallen felt the fear in her gut—a little sliver left over from years ago.

Had that been how it had happened? It made too much sense not to be. How else would their villages, their towns, have-

"That's incorrect." A voice said dispassionately, and the class fell silent as they looked towards its source—the Britannian prince.

"Oh really?" The Schnee girl said, scoffing, eyes full of disgust. "Do you expect us to believe that dozens of Mistralian settlements just vanished of their own accord?"

"I'm saying that you're wrong about how they did it," The Prince said.

"And perhaps the great Prince of Britannia would like to explain? Or should your royal knight do that for you?" The Schnee girl said, and Kallen realized with a lurch that that last dig had been directed at her.

"What—no, wait, I'm not—" Kallen said, fighting to keep her breath calm as the eyes of all of her classmates turned on her. They were eyes full of vague fear, anger, hatred, or even worse—complete disinterest. She had somehow become the symbol of Britannia for them, in that moment, all of its crimes laid on her shoulders. All because of her appearance and her Britannian father. How could she possibly pay all of those debts-how could she be made to justify the spilt lifeblood that Britannia had coated its hands with? She felt like she was beginning to be crushed by the air around her. Why was she the one being made the scapegoat here? It wasn't fair… it wasn't _fair_ , _it wasn't—!_

"Kindly leave Kallen out of this." The Prince said, and at those words the weight was gone. Had it disappeared, or… had it just moved to someone else? All eyes were on the Prince, now. He stood.

"The tactic you suggest is completely unviable. The Britannian Expeditionary force was trying to outpace Mistralian mobilization and cut off the capital, so they had to move quickly. Gathering together a horde of Grimm takes time." The Prince said.

"Oh, and you would know?" The Schnee girl said, crowding her arms and glaring. "You think you know better than the best historians of Atlas?"

"Yes, I do." The Prince looked past the Schnee girl, towards Professor Oobleck. "Any Britannian history textbook would tell you that the Mistralian Villagers' own fear of Britannia's might brought the Grimm, and that is what destroyed them." There was a minor uproar, but The Prince held out a hand. "They are, of course, completely wrong. You don't look in history textbooks for the truth of how war is fought, not in Britannia." The Prince glanced around, seeing that he had everyone's attention. "There is a book published in a new edition every year called 'The Britannian Youth Guide to Battle", and its senior partner, "The Britannian Knight's Guide to Battle". Both books received a new chapter after the war about fighting in lands infested with Grimm. In that chapter, it is suggested that if one wishes to move through Grimm-infested territory quickly, it is best to create distractions."

"You… you mean…" The Schnee girl said. Kallen couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"They didn't destroy the villages because they were in their way. They simply destroyed their defenses as they passed because it meant they wouldn't have to deal with the Grimm themselves." The Prince said.

Kallen didn't remember much of the rest of the class, or the walk back. She barely even realized that she was putting on her pajamas and getting into bed until she was already there. Sleep came quickly…

* * *

 _RUN! RUUUUUUN!_

 _Oh spirits, they're still coming…_

 _No, please, please, pleeeeeeaase!_

 _Help me! Somebody, anybody—HEEEEEELP!_

 _I'm sorry…I'm so sorry… I'm sorry… I'm so…_

 _The doors! They're not holding—_

 _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—_

* * *

"—AAAH!" Kallen cried, lurching up from her bed, covered in sweat. It didn't seem like she'd woken anyone else up, but she was breathing hard after that.

That damn girl just had to bring that up again… she'd been able to sleep soundly for years. The goddamned past didn't know how to keep itself to itself. But… what The Prince had said… it made it so much worse.

They hadn't been townsfolk defending their city from a Britannian invasion force. They hadn't been having some glorious last stand where their sacrifices had had meaning somewhere in the ultimate battle. Their heroism had meant nothing. They had only been bait for the Grimm.

Something began to burn, deep in her chest, a dark sort of fury that Kallen had only felt a few times before. It was the kind that would keep building and building and building until she could find a way to release it. It was still so dark outside, though. There was nothing she could do. This rage would be as helpless and as pointless as the death of those villagers and townspeople—of her countrymen. Her people.

Then, her eyes darted over to the bed where, for once, the Prince was actually sleeping, and she remembered something that she could do. Something she had vowed to do.

She drew the dagger slowly out of her pillowcase, drawing on all of her experience and training to make no noise. It was a particularly long one, and it had a serrated blade designed specifically for slashing arteries. She'd picked it up off of an old man in Shinjuku Ghetto—it would never be traced back to her, assuming she left no fingerprints. She'd told the others that she slept with gloves because her hands got cold, which had felt like a weak lie at the time but had paid off in the long run.

Kallen slipped silently off of her bed and crawled along, passing under the edges by Suzaku and C.C.'s beds before finally coming to The Prince's. It had surprised her that he hadn't demanded something larger than the standard bed, deigning to sleep like normal people instead, but it would only make her job easier. She crept over to the head of the bed and rose silently up until she was standing over the sleeping prince, dagger in hand.

The Prince was sleeping soundly, for once, and his face looked… young. Much younger than he did when he was awake. She watched him breath in, then out, in, then out. He looked peaceful, and that made Kallen even angrier. How did someone like him, someone who had reaped the benefits of everything the Empire had done, someone who could just calmly say that the deaths of her countrymen were merely for the sake of convenience without any sign of remorse get to sleep so fitfully? How!?

Kallen raised her dagger, taking aim at his neck. It would be so simple, a single strike and he would be dead. A tyrant destroyed. A boy murdered.

Murdered?

Something about the way that that sounded pushed back the anger, if just for a moment.

Was that what she was doing? She was killing a monster for the greater good, wasn't she? That wasn't murder.

"No… please…" The Prince muttered in his sleep, face contorting with sudden fear. Kallen froze—had he woken up? But, no, those purple eyes didn't open.

"Please… it's not fair… it's my fault… please don't…" The Prince muttered, curling up underneath his blanket. Kallen just stared, knife still raised. When he was asleep, when those eyes were closed… he really was just a kid her age.

But… there had been so many kids her age. So many who were now dead, slaughtered by the hands of the Empire he represented. Maybe this was justice. It still felt wrong… horribly, horribly wrong. Kallen had a feeling that this particular act would haunt her for the rest of her days. Nonetheless, this wasn't about The Prince, and this wasn't about Kallen. This was about Britannia and Nihon. Her country. Her people. The vengeance that they deserved.

Wrath freshly rekindled, fate decided, racing to move faster than the guilt and shame that were rising in her chest, pushing through the rage-Kallen thrust swiftly down at The Princes' throat.

She closed her eyes as she felt her blade's descent stop, even then not fully ready to see what she had done. She opened them again, however, when she realized why her dagger had stopped.

A hand gripped her wrist like an iron manacle, locking her blade just inches above the sleeping Prince. Kallen had barely an instant to stare at it in shock before something slammed into her knee and she was suddenly tumbling through the air, crashing into a wall. Before she could even begin to recover, a hand just as firm wrapped around her throat, pressed into her windpipe and lifted her off of the ground, pushing her back into the wall. Kallen gasped and wheezed, tearing desperately at the hand that held her, to no effect.

"Well, well, well… it looks like I was right, eh Lelouch?" C.C. said, smiling up at Kallen as if she wasn't currently choking the life out of her.


	6. Trials and Tribulations

"We need to talk."

Pyrrha hadn't known what to expect when she returned from brushing her teeth and found Weiss, Ren, and Nora waiting for her in their room, with a nervous-looking Jaune pretending to read in the corner. If she was completely honest with herself, though, there was only one reason they would be here.

"About Prince Lelouch, you mean," Pyrrha said. Weiss's eyes narrowed.

"About how you know the Britannian, yes," she said, crossing her arms. "I think we all deserve a bit of an explanation."

Some part of Pyrrha had hoped that they would let it go. It was some small, scared part of her. A younger part, that she'd left behind, or hoped she had, years before. This wasn't like her. Not anymore.

But there was no escaping this, and another, better part of her wanted to get this story off of her chest. It hurt to hold it in, maybe more than it scared her to tell it. And, she'd made a promise; She'd noticed the looks Ren and Nora gave her when they thought she wasn't looking, the guarded looks they were giving her now—if she didn't follow through, she might lose her new friends as quickly as she'd made them. Right now, she was creating a rift in her team. She'd mend it. Even if they looked at her differently. Even if they judged her and were ashamed to be on a team with her after they heard.

"Okay, then," Pyrrha said, taking in a deep breath. "You'd better go and get the others, if they want to hear it too—I'd prefer it if I only had to tell this story once."

Weiss nodded curtly, then stalked out through the doorway, leaving the team alone. They all looked at each other for a moment.

"We're sorry if this is hard for you, Pyrrha. We just need to know," Ren said, softly. Pyrrha nodded, and resisted the urge to look down at her boots.

"Look, whatever you're worried about telling us, it's fine," Jaune said from his desk, "none of us are going to judge you for it, right, guys?"

"Depends on what she has to say," Nora said.

"Nora—" Jaune began.

"Britannians are bad news, Jaune. You wouldn't understand. Whatever Pyrrha's done to have a debt to a Britannian prince—"

Pyrrha heard the implication, and recoiled.

"I'm not a _traitor_ , Nora! How could you think… do you really believe…" Pyrrha said, words failing her. Of course that was what they thought. She'd known that. But, something about hearing it out loud… it hurt. It must have shown on her face, because Nora's expression softened.

"Ah… I mean, I didn't…" Nora said, trying and failing to find something to say.

"Look, let's just wait to hear what Pyrrha has to say, all right? No judgements or fighting until then. We're a team. We'll work through this together." Jaune said. Pyrrha hadn't noticed him get up, but he was now standing with his arms crossed between them.

The silence that followed was agonizing. But, after a few endless moments, team RWBY arrived—and Pyrrha began.

* * *

The stadium was lit blindingly bright, the crowd was so large their cheers shook the walls, and Pyrrha was nervous. It was the second time she'd come to this tournament. She remembered the absolutely amazing feeling of victory, the glow of joy it had left in her and her mother for weeks afterwards. She'd proven herself to be the champion of her generation. Now, a year later, she was here again. This time, the stakes were unbearably high.

"Pyrrha? Are you well?" Her mother said, bringing Pyrrha sharply back into focus.

"Yes, mother." She said automatically. Her mother raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Really? Then what did I just say about your performance during your last match?" Her mother asked. Pyrrha panicked.

"That… I was sloppy?" Pyrrha said.

"No, the opposite— you were almost too good," Pyrrha's mother said, smiling. The old scar above her eye crinkled into a zigzag—a comforting familiarity. "You need to relax a bit. You're going to need to stay loose and stay sharp when you're fighting your next opponent."

Her next opponent. Her mother said that so casually… no, Pyrrha could see the steel in her eyes too. This wasn't just any opponent. This was _The Opponent_.

For three long years, the All-Mistralian Youth Combat League Championship had been restricted to the Free Mistralians, an act of protest against the occupation. This year, that had changed. The board had opened up the Championship to schools from the occupied territories, claiming that it was unjust to punish Mistralian students for their own occupation. It was a fair point, but missed the far more important issue entirely—the schools in Nihon were now occupied and under heavy watch by the Britannians, who kept them around only so that they could continue to send Nihonese fighters to die fighting the Grimm instead of Britannian ones. Those who joined had to reject their Nihonese identity and become "Honorary Britannians". In the eyes of true Mistralians like Pyrrha, this was despicable. Few within the League wanted them to be allowed to join, and the board itself was suspect—it was widely believed that they had only done this due to bribes given by the Britannian Prince reigning in Nihon, Clovis, a name universally spat upon and reviled.

Worse than the honorary Britannians, however—only a few teams had shown up, and they'd been defeated and disqualified early on—was that, to the surprise and horror of all, a team of Britannians had chosen to attend. Even worse, they had done well. Extraordinarily so. They were from a little-known academy, founded by Britannians in Nihon back a few years before the war, owned by the Ashford family. It wasn't even primarily a combat school—most of its students were mundanely studying the arts and sciences. Despite this, the two had cut their way through match after match, downing opponent after opponent. They'd both made it to the final four, where they'd ended up facing each other. Now, there was only one. Her last opponent.

This wasn't a fight she could afford to lose.

"Pyrrha. Really, daughter, you need to focus." Her mother chided, putting a hand on her shoulder. Her face was drawn into a small smile, but her eyes were obsidian—sharp and determined. No one Pyrrha had ever known had pulled off an expression quite like the war-face of Olympia Nikos.

"You should know, if you lose… we'll be fine. But you can't lose, and you won't. You're better than him. You're stronger, you're tougher, and your skills and weapons give you the edge. Be careful, he hasn't shown his semblance yet—he might be holding back. Still, you deserve this win more than they do." She smiled a little wider, then, and something fragile flickered in her eyes. "You'll do us proud, your father and I. We're already so proud. It's time to make the country as proud of you as we are. Time to beat them, finally."

Her mother had chosen the exact right things to say, whether she knew it or not… though she probably did. Now, Pyrrha wasn't nervous. She wasn't scared, either. She'd packed both of those feelings away, deep inside. No, now, for one of the few times in her life... Pyrrha was angry.

* * *

Suzaku woke to a clatter and something slamming against the wall. He sat up, and immediately regretted it as his vision began to swim.

"Ah, hey, what…" He mumbled.

His vision was just starting to clear. He heard someone gasping, frantically, as if they were… choking?

"Well, well, well, it looks like I was right, eh Lelouch?" Someone said.

He blinked several times and his eyes finally adjusted to the sight of Kallen, somehow a solid foot off of the floor and pressed against the wall, clutching at her throat. In an instant, he was up, rushing forward in a gust of wind.

"I wouldn't if I were you," the voice said again, and suddenly C.C. was there, staring at him, with a knife pointed directly at his face. Suzaku skidded to a stop.

"What—what do you think you're doing?" Suzaku said, half bewildered, half furious. "Let her go."

"You want me to free a would-be assassin? How foolish are you, little knight?" C.C. replied, frowning at him.

"You don't know what you're talking about. She's no assassin," Suzaku said. Kallen, a murderer? It wasn't possible. The Kallen he knew, the Kallen he'd befriended—she was a lot of things, but dishonorable and cowardly were not among them.

"Oh? And what else would you call a person you found standing above your sleeping partner, trying to put a knife through his throat?" C.C. said.

"Why should I believe anything you say? All I have is your word," Suzaku said. With a flex of his semblance, he summoned his blade—Kusanagi—to his hand, accidentally blowing all of the loose papers on their desks into a storm in the process.

"Put her down. Now," He said, pointing the blade at C.C.'s face. Kallen was beginning to turn blue, and he could see the desperate pain in her eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will."

"C.C.," another voice said, "put her down."

They both turned and saw Lelouch, sitting up in bed. He had a grim look on his face Suzaku remembered from an older, darker time. The sight of it filled him with dread.

"She tried to kill you," C.C. said, evenly.

"And she failed. She's no use to us dead." Lelouch replied, eyes narrowing at his partner. With a shrug, C.C. released her grip, and Kallen collapsed to the floor. Suzaku dropped Kusanagi and went to her, holding her up as she sobbed and gasped for breath.

"It looks like your suspicions were correct after all, C.C." Lelouch said after a moment, blearily wiping sleep out of his eyes. "Odd that she'd come all this way and wait this long just to make an attempt now."

"This doesn't make sense. She wouldn't do this," Suzaku said, glaring back at his old friend. He hated the look Lelouch was giving him, like a brother coming to tell his sibling that their parents had died.

"C.C. wouldn't attack her without a serious reason. If she says Kallen was trying to kill me, Kallen was trying to kill me," Lelouch said.

"You really trust her that much?" Suzaku said, glaring at the green-haired woman who now leaned against the headboard of Lelouch's bed, watching bemusedly.

"I trust her enough," Lelouch replied. C.C. frowned at him, but Lelouch didn't break eye contact with Suzaku.

"He's… he's right. I did try…" The girl shaking in Suzaku's arms croaked. She'd stopped coughing—her aura was doing its work—but she still seemed too weak to sit up. She looked drained. And, as her words filtered through to Suzaku, he began to really consider the possibility…

"Well, then, that's a confession," Lelouch said, eyes narrowing. "Believe it or not, Suzaku, this isn't the first near-miss assassination attempt I've been through in the last year. It's starting to become a bad habit."

"Should I kill her, then?" C.C. asked, as if it was nothing. If Suzaku had hackles, they would've risen. Lelouch just looked annoyed.

"No. We need her alive. More importantly, she's Suzaku's partner—there's more at stake here than eliminating an assassin," Lelouch replied.

Suzaku stared at his old friend. He knew that he'd changed, but this… were they really just calmly discussing murdering one of their classmates, one of their friends? When had Lelouch become so cutthroat? It was horrifying. But, then… had Kallen really tried to murder his friend, in cold blood, in his own bed? He could feel the confusion, the dread, and the revulsion building within him… but then again, who was he to judge?

Even so, he'd thought they were better than this, hoped beyond hope…

"So, Kallen, now that we've been properly introduced, I have a question for you," Lelouch said, sliding out of bed and walking over to stand above the two of them. Kallen looked up, and to his alarm, Suzaku could see more hatred than fear in her glare.

"Why do you want to kill me?" Lelouch asked.

* * *

It was strange, when she first saw him in person. Part of her had thought he looked taller, on the battlefield, when she'd watched his previous matches. If he'd been an animal, he would've probably been a heron. He was still tall, to be sure, but he was as thin as a spear—and probably twice as easy to shatter. At least, that was the idea.

They met in the middle of the battlefield, as was customary. The walk out felt glacially slow, and the crowd had died down to mostly muttering and jeering. When they both got out to the middle, she could see his outfit in alarming detail. He'd worn almost armor, which wasn't surprising—his main defense was speed. He'd dressed in dark grey, tan, and gold—the uniform of his school, apparently—with a dash of color in the form of a violet sash. He wore a visor of the same color over his eyes, but took it off when they both reached the center circle. His eyes were, somehow, the same shade; apparently the Britannians were as fashionable as they were evil. His hair was an odd yellow color, almost golden.

"So, I guess this is it," He said with a smile, sticking out a hand. Pyrrha didn't take it. Instead, she just stared back at him in silence. She felt perversely satisfied as his stupid smirk faded, and the crowd jeered louder as it became obvious she wasn't going to shake his hand.

"Ah. Well, okay then," he said, lowering it back to his side. "Best of luck to you," He said.

"I'm going to destroy you," Pyrrha said, quietly. The boy said nothing.

"Did you hear me, Britannian?" She said, louder. The crowd was cheering now. "I'm going to beat you, you honorless, worthless Brittanian scum!"

The crowd roared in approval. The referees did nothing. The boy stayed silent, just stared back, looking uncomfortable.

High above, the countdown started. Pyrrha fell back into her stance, and stared down her enemy. He fell into his as well, one she'd been studying endlessly for the last few hours. It was elegant, flashy, and in a few key places, vulnerable.

As soon as it hit zero, the horn blared—and Pyrrha raced forward.

 _Memories welled up—her father and mother, sparring as she watched. Both of them, leaving together, waving goodbye as she cried in the arms of her cousin._

Pyrrha rammed her Akouo into the fool Britannian—or tried to, as he ducked out of the way. She swept Milo across her back to deflect the boy's rapier as it lanced forward, and then extended Milo as she continued into a slash, nearly catching the top of the prince's head as he sidestepped away.

 _Her cousin and aunt talking quietly in another room while an advertisement played on T.V.—buy Victory Bonds, defend the homeland!—and hearing popping sounds in the distance._

The Britannian had dodged back for a moment, attempting to gain some breathing room, and she hurled Akouo at him. He tried to deflect it, only to have the force of her strike spin him out of position. She sprinted up and leapt at him, delivering a full-force kick with both feet to his back that sent him sprawling. The crowd roared…

 _Gunfire roared just over the horizon as her cousin and aunt dragged her, kicking and screaming, up the hill with their luggage. A crowd of people, all scared, or sad, or haunted-looking, trudged beside them. Behind them, she could see smoke, and fire—her home was burning…_

The boy recovered, but she was only getting started. She rolled, picking up Akouo from where it fell, and came up into a couch. With Milo perched on the edge of her shield, she fired once, twice, three times as she rose to her feet and advanced. The Britannian managed to block two of them, somehow deflecting them off of his blade, but the third caught him in the gut and knocked him back to his knees. Pyrrha closed in.

 _For days, they'd slept outside, or on benches, or in stadiums, or on buses. They'd lost some of their things on the way. Pyrrha's bag was long-gone. They all stank of sweat. None of them had been able to shower or bathe since the first day they'd run. Her aunt said it would all be over soon, but Pyrrha could hear her crying at night._

She didn't expect the lunge that caught her, now, in the gut, knocking the wind out of her—it slid right under her shield, a vulnerability she hadn't accounted for. She stumbled back, and the Britannian boy was back up, sword flickering everywhere, almost faster than she could block or deflect it. Milo and Akouo held, but the boy was undeniably fast and surprisingly strong. Over fifteen among the dozens of slashes and stabs should have gotten through to hit her solidly despite her shield, but with careful touches of magnetism she deflected them all just enough to miss her. She ceded ground, gritted her teeth, and waited.

 _Then, there was the day they saw the ships fly over. Flyers snowed down all over the city, and Pyrrha grabbed one of her own. Atlas had come, the old ally. Atlesian armies had joined the fight to drive back the invader. Everyone was celebrating—her aunt found a cake somewhere, and the three of them ate it with their hands, happy in the first time for forever. The news was all good: they were driving them back, pushing the Britannian devil back into its cage. Their village had been retaken. They were going to go home._

Pyrrha had had enough of dancing around. Spotting a slight gap in his rapier form, too small to take advantage of normally, Pyrrha used her semblance and willed his sword to swing just wide enough to open up that gap—and then turned Akouo and rammed its edge into his chest. The boy stumbled back, bending at the middle and gasping out a breath. Pyrrha advanced, stabbing and slashing with Milo and bashing his rapier out of the way with Akouo at every opportunity. She could feel him getting weaker, and she grinned at the taste of victory.

 _Then they got back to the village, only it wasn't the village anymore. Everything Pyrrha had known had been burnt to the ground or crushed under the Britannian war machine. Her pink-and-flower-painted room was gone. Her window where she looked out at the stars was gone. Her father's garden where she used to play pretend, fight imaginary Grimm and pirates and vampires, was gone. Even their little forest, their safe little grove with its apple trees and red-and-gold in autumn, was gone. All that was left was the hilltop and piles of rubble. She cried, and kept crying, but stopped when she heard that the war was over—her parents were coming back._

At last, she smashed his sword arm one time too many, and his rapier drooped to his side. The scoundrel's eyes widened in alarm, and he began to say "I yiel—" but she wasn't done. Akouo rammed into his face, silencing him and bowling him over. She stabbed Milo through his rapier's guard, pinning it to the arena's sand-covered wooden floor, and let it go. She grabbed Akouo in both hands, and slammed it down onto her enemy—once, twice, three times…

 _And her parents did come back. Her mother straggled in, bloody and worn, eyes full of ghosts. Her father rolled in on a cart the next day. Pyrrha wasn't allowed to open the box—they said his face wasn't the same anymore, that there wasn't much of him there. The next day they put it in the ground, where all the name-stones had been before the Britannians crushed them._  
 _Nihon was lost, along with so many of her friends. They hadn't even won._  
 _Pyrrha helped her mother put the village back together, working day in and day out when her mother couldn't—piece by piece, person by person—but every day she went to her father's place on the hill, and cried, and cried._

Pyrrha barely realized it when the boy's aura broke. She'd stopped paying attention to his shouting, replying with Akouo and her fists. She felt it when he screamed, though—felt his ribcage creak under Akouo's strike, felt something soft squish under her fist, and stopped.

The crowd was still cheering. Pyrrha stared at the back of her hand, wondering why there was blood on it. She looked down—her gauntlet had cut open his cheek, and blood was pouring down.. His visor had fallen off, somewhere along the line. He was staring up at her, in pain and terrified. She slid off of him, and stood up.

She felt numb. She'd burned through the anger. But there was pride, there—she'd finally won. For her country. For her father. For herself. It wasn't much consolation—less than she'd hoped for, at least—but it was something.

Pyrrha turned back to the boy. He was getting up, staring at her with alarm, wariness, and exhaustion. She walked up closer to him, and looked him in the eyes, unwavering. Then, she spit in his face, and walked away.

The judges finally called the match in her favor, and the crowd roared in approval.

* * *

"Do you really need to ask?" Kallen croaked, sitting up and glaring at Lelouch with a hatred Suzaku knew all too well.

"You'd be surprised. There are people all over the world who would be happy to slit my throat, each with their own reasons," Lelouch said.

"What a surprise." Kallen replied, hoarsely. Lelouch chuckled, though his eyes stayed deadly serious. Suzaku mentally chided Kallen for that bravado, though it was just like her—but the thought jarred with their current situation. Kallen, his friend, his partner, an attempted assassin… were there more things he didn't know about her? Should he do what he could to protect her from Lelouch, or was it the other way around?

"Clever comebacks aside, reasons are important to me. I'd like to know yours before I decide anything," Lelouch said. He paused, staring at Kallen for a moment, waiting.

"Fine, then," Kallen said, pulling away from Suzaku to stand up. She wobbled a little, but tried to stand tall to face Lelouch.

"I did it for Nihon. For everything your people took from us. For every _one_ your people took from us. For myself. For revenge, after what we had to go through—" Kallen began.

"Your people—Kallen, you're Britannian," Lelouch said, confused. Suzaku was shocked. What was she saying? Her parents were both Britannian, he'd even met the Stadtfelds once, on accident…

"No! I'm Nihonese, damnit, and I'm proud of it!" Kallen cried. "My father might have been Britannian, but I belong to my mother's country, and Grimm take the invaders!" Kallen was trembling with some emotion between rage, zeal, and underneath—which probably only Suzaku could fully see—terror.

Then again, what did Suzaku even know about his partner? He'd thought that she was an unusually accepting Britannian woman, a capable and loyal friend, someone he could trust to have his back with anything. He'd brought her with him to help his friend, and she'd come, just because he asked… he thought it was because she was adventurous, courageous, and because she valued their friendship. Had she just used him to get to Lelouch? He'd taken her into his confidence…

Suzaku had a thought, then, that shook him to his core: if C.C. had been any slower, he would've been responsible for Lelouch's death.

It took him a moment to notice that Lelouch was talking.

"So, you're a nationalist, then?" Lelouch asked.

Kallen didn't answer, just crossing her arms defiantly.

"But you were partnered with Suzaku a year ago… this was just opportunistic." Lelouch Narrowed his eyes. "So the Lady Stadtfeld is not your mother, I take it?"

Kallen spit in response. "That woman isn't even family. Neither is my father. Let them know, when you have them kill me, my name was my mother's name—Kozuki!" She shouted. Lelouch raised an eyebrow.

"That's a strange request of you to make, but if you say so. Another important question: are you affiliated with any particular group, or working on your own?" Lelouch asked. Kallen barked out a laugh—one that Suzaku saw through, or at least thought he did, to the terror underneath. Then again, apparently he had never known this person at all.

"As if I would ever tell you." Kallen retorted.

"I see. Probably a small group, then," Lelouch said. Kallen flinched, and Lelouch grinned a feral grin.

"Ah. Apparently I was right," he said. Kallen stared, eyes wide.

"What—how—" She said, spluttering.

"If you were alone you probably would've said so, or claimed that you were part of a larger group that you supported. If you were part of a larger group, you would have said so—terrorism is pointless if no one gets the credit. Therefore, it was likely that you had a group of some kind, a group that was too small to want credit—maybe even a single cell of a handful of people, one that could be fully destroyed if a single one of their members was compromised," Lelouch said, watching Kallen carefully as the color drained out of her face.

"I…" Kallen said, mouth hanging open as she struggled for words and failed to find any.

"It's a good thing I'm not on the anti-terror taskforce. If I were, I would probably call you in for 'questioning' and have all of your friends imprisoned or shot," Lelouch said, smiling humorlessly. Suzaku felt like he was going to be sick. Kallen looked worse.

"Of course, I do have contacts. It could still happen," Lelouch said, looking her dead in the eyes. "But… I'm not going to make that call. Not yet."

"I'm… not afraid, of you." Kallen ground out. Suzaku knew it was a lie—he suspected Lelouch did too. Lelouch, though, just sighed.

"Yes, I'd gathered. I just wanted to let you know what position you've put yourself into and give you a chance to think it through," he said. He glanced around the room, then shrugged. "Well, that's all I have to say. If no one else has anything they want to talk about, I'm going back to sleep," Lelouch said, turning around. All three of the other occupants of the room stared as the Prince walked back over to his bed and drew back the sheets.

"…what?" Kallen said.

"I'm going to sleep. It's late," Lelouch said, as if that was somehow helpful.

"You… aren't you going to…" Kallen tried.

"Kill you?" Lelouch supplied, helpfully. "No, not tonight, anyway."

"But… why?" Kallen asked. Judging by C.C.'s expression, Suzaku got the impression that she was wondering the same thing, though with less confusion and more curiosity.

"It would be a waste. Of a good warrior, of my friend's partner—and from what I can tell, an otherwise good person." Lelouch said, and then shrugged. "I feel that you're worth a second chance. Given what you must've been through, I would've probably tried the same thing. Don't make a habit of it, though. I'm not usually in the mood for third chances."

"Where the hell do you get off saying you know anything what I've been through?" Kallen hissed, and Suzaku once again wished that she hadn't. Lelouch turned fully around and looked at her.

"I know." He said, dangerously quiet. The smile had vanished. There was something about the way he stared back at her, something in his eyes, that made even Suzaku shiver… something that summoned up memory of clambering over bloody rubble, hiding in spider-filled crawl-spaces from the monsters and monstrous men outside, eating moldy wheat to survive. Kallen must have seen it too, because she said nothing. A lifetime of memories could have filled the silence.

Then, Lelouch shook his head, grabbed his rapier from where it leaned against the bedside table, unlatched the window, and leapt out into the night.

"Did he, just…" Kallen asked, looking back and forth between the window and Suzaku for confirmation that she wasn't hallucinating, a confirmation Suzaku wasn't in the mood to give. He stood and shrugged. He turned away from her and walked without really thinking about it over to his own bed, and wordlessly crawled into it.

He felt utterly, completely exhausted... but he wasn't going to be getting any sleep that night.

* * *

It was like a bad dream. Pyrrha had thought it was over, but apparently the Britannians didn't agree. There were always two stages to this tournament, the singles round and the doubles round. The singles round was the most prestigious, to be sure, but to win the doubles round was no small thing and the Ashford Academy team was dangerously close to doing it. They'd made it to the last round—they were going up against the strongest youth team that Mistral had to offer. Pyrrha had never taken part in the doubles events, but she knew the final Mistralian Champions well: Scarlet David and Sage Ayana. Both were skilled swordsmen normally, but they'd come armed with new weapons and new energy this year, and it showed. Scarlet's Cutlass and pistol combo was working wonders, and while Sage still relied mostly on his sword, he'd used his new beam cannon—one of the biggest weapons Pyrrha had honestly ever seen—to excellent effect when stuck in difficult situations.

The Britannian boy and his partner were, she supposed, a fitting challenge. The boy was strong, apparently recovered from his crushing defeat only days before, and his partner was even more capable when paired with the boy.

She was a strange one. She'd armed herself with two oversize bladed metal hand fans, and made significant use of her sparkler semblance by creating bright flashes of colored light and explosive popping sounds to distract her enemies. Her costume followed the same color scheme as the boy's, but highlighted in jade green instead of violet. It was bizarre. No one wore school uniforms to the championship. Usually, no one even wore matching uniforms. It was easier to be remembered, giving one a better chance of being scouted, if one was wearing something unique. Apparently they hadn't gotten the memo.

Regardless, as the fight began, Pyrrha found herself more and more annoyed that the Britannians were still here. The girl—whose name, as she was finally forced to check, was Milly Ashford—began to dual with Scarlet. She seemed to alternate between taunting him, cackling for reasons Pyrrha shuddered to imagine, and redoubling her efforts and speed into a terrifying whirlwind of fan blades. Whenever Scarlet attempted to take aim, a bright light like a firework would explode into his gaze and he'd be pushed back onto the defensive.

Meanwhile, the boy, one Louis Lamperouge, danced around Sage with the same vile grace he'd shown days before. Sage wasn't as fast as Pyrrha was, making the boy far harder for him to hit. Lamperouge ducked beneath, sidestepped, and flipped over Sage's strikes, all while landing small blows of his own and weakening the bigger fighter. Scarlet managed to get in a few good hits on the Ashford girl, but then the two Britannians began to switch positions in a disturbingly effective show of teamwork. It was as if they could read each other's minds. They covered each other's backs and helped each other disorient, distract, and break down their opponents. Pyrrha gritted her teeth, but she had to admit, they were capable. Then, finally, the girl with the fan backflipped into a fierce uppercut with her fan and sent Scarlet arcing out of the ring, and there were only three.

Sage roared out some kind of challenge—it was impossible to hear out in the stands where she sat—and pulled the beam cannon off of his back. Lamperouge and Ashford rushed in. The cannon blasted once, then twice. It was at such close range, it was almost guaranteed to hit, and it did, hurling Lamperouge back into the wall in front of the stands. The Ashford girl, however, could not be stopped. Leaping over the cannon, she smashed foot-first into Sage's forehead, toppling the tall Mistralian to the ground. He attempted to get up, trying to flail out and hit his assailant with the beam cannon, but ended up only slamming it into the ground. Blinded and disoriented by flashing lights and small explosions in his ears, Sage was forced to surrender to the Britannian girl, sending most of the crowd to booing and, to Pyrrha's irritation, some cheering as well. The girl strode off towards the exit, ready to claim their prize, and Pyrrha wanted to vomit.

Just when it all seemed over, however, something went very, very wrong.

The beam cannon, bent and battered on the ground, began to glow. Then, it got brighter. Then, it got too bright. Then, in one of the rarest equipment malfunctions in history, it began to fire. It was as if it had been overloaded. The fire burned too hot, melting through the metal wall of the arena itself, and as Sage frantically rushed away from it, his foot bumped into the cannon and it began to turn.

Pyrrha looked where it was going and saw, to her absolute horror, that it was drifting towards the judges box. Two of them had already left for deliberations. One of the judges had called in sick that day, and so instead they'd asked for one of the reserve judges to fill in. Her mother had volunteered. Her mother, who now sat alone, peering down at a set of notes in the judges' box.

Everything seemed to slow down.

Pyrrha felt herself leaping out of her seat, over the wall, into the arena. She heard someone screaming—it might have been her. She felt as if she was running through water. Better than anyone, Pyrrha knew exactly how fast she could run—and exactly how fast she couldn't. Deep in her heart, she knew… she wasn't going to make it to the machine in time. The beam burnt its way in an arc along the wall, boring into the metal itself. Had Pyrrha been more aware, she would've been grateful that no one was sitting in that row of seats, the Honorary Britannian section. She saw her mother look up, pause for a moment, then begin to realize the danger, just as the beam began to cut into the glass of the box.

Then, the Britannian boy came out of nowhere. He'd sprinted, faster than Pyrrha would have thought possible, from where he'd been thrown during the match. Without even a moment of hesitation, he plunged his blade into the malfunctioning cannon and twisted it and its beam back away from the judges' box—and the cannon exploded.

Pyrrha stumbled to a stop as she watched the boy thrown backwards. He arced high, twisting in the air over the stadium before slamming stomach-first into the ground at least forty feet from the ex-cannon. In the explosion-startled silence of the stadium, all Pyrrha could hear was her heartbeat racing in her ears… and a sharp, horrifying pop-crack that the boy made when he hit the ground.

He lay there, horribly silent and motionless, and for a moment everything was still.

Then, the Ashford girl screamed and ran to his side, and suddenly everyone was shouting and crying and the medics ran out onto the field and Pyrrha was sprinting to her mother. Pyrrha engulfed her mother in a hug. The two of them watched as the Brittanian boy was rushed away in an ambulance.

Then, Pyrrha collapsed into her mother's arms and wept.

Afterwards, she vowed to treat everyone, even those she hated, with professional respect. She would not make the same mistake twice.

It was only days later that they saw the news, and she learned who it was that she'd shamed so terribly and who it was that had saved her mother's life.


	7. Arguments and Aftermaths

**Hey all! Apologies for the lateness-I meant to have this out awhile ago, and have it be a bit longer, but I ran into some unexpected snags. I'll work through those as soon as I can, schoolwork's getting a little pressing right this second, but rest assured more is on the way. I'm aiming to update on a weekly/biweekly basis, which will mostly depend on how much time I can pry away from schoolwork. This chapter also isn't quite as long as I'd like, so there might be an update elongating this one in a little while(otherwise it'll just go into the next chapter). Thank you all for reading, I hope you're enjoying the story!**

* * *

"So. Is that it?" Weiss said, frowning. She felt all the eyes in the room turn to look at her. Ren and Nora looked up from where they'd been embracing and comforting their teammate, with Jaune patting her on the shoulder. Pyrrha even stopped quietly sobbing for a moment.

"…what?" Pyrrha croaked, lifting her face out of her hands to look back at Weiss.

"Is that it? The whole reason you think he's a 'better person' than the rest of the Britannian aristocrats?" Weiss asked.

"Yes." Pyrrha said, voice only shaking a little. It was clear to Weiss that Pyrrha believed what she was saying, just as much as she was ashamed of what she had done. Weiss could understand that. Even so…

"I don't think that that's enough." Weiss said.

"Weiss…" Ruby began.

"I'm serious. So he did a good deed. Maybe he acted out of the kindness of his heart, but it's also an action that would do wonders for his reputation. He could have even planned for it," Weiss said.

"I don't know, Weiss," Ren said, shaking his head before turning back to look at Nora. "I think we might have been wrong on this one. Pyrrha's word is good enough for me."

"If Pyrrha thinks he's fine, then so do we!" Nora agreed, nodding. Weiss tried not to glare, but her frustration was growing steadily.

"He did a good thing, even though it could've killed him," Jaune the fool chimed in.

"There are certainly less dangerous things he could do to get a good reputation," Blake said thoughtfully.

"Sorry, Weissicle, I'm gonna have to side with them on this one," Yang said, with a smile that only made Weiss feel like hissing at her.

"You're not listening," Weiss said, gesturing at the whole group. "You're all so happy to buy into this 'noble prince' routine, you're missing the obvious fact that he's a member of the most nefarious royal families in all of history. His actions were good, sure—but they aren't the only important part of what he did! None of us know what motivated those actions, and good or no, his intentions in pursuing this course of action are the thing that matter the most!"

"Okay, then—why don't we go ask him?" Ruby said, startling Weiss. She'd forgotten that her new leader was sitting right next to her—Ruby'd been so quiet. Weiss didn't fully process what she'd said.

"What?" Weiss asked, staring at the silver-eyed girl.

"Why don't we go ask him why he did it?" Ruby asked. Weiss… couldn't have heard that correctly.

"You can't be serious," Weiss replied, but her leader just looked back at her.

"Why not, Weiss-cream? Seems like it'd solve your problem." Yang said, taking a moment to stretch. The audacity of that girl!

"My 'problem' is that all of you are trusting in the actions of a prince of Britannia without even a moment of hesitation and stop calling me that!" Weiss said, pointing directly at her flame-haired teammate, who frowned back at her. Weiss glanced around the room for support, and to her immense aggravation, found none.

"Asking him seems a bit… direct… but it can't really hurt," Blake said, looking at Weiss as if she was some sort of visual puzzle. Weiss gritted her teeth—was her entire team composed of fools?

"Of course it can," Weiss ground out.

"Weiss—" Weiss felt a tap on her shoulder and looked back at Ruby again, who waved at the door. "Can I talk to you alone for a minute?"

"I—" Weiss began, glancing around at the other members of the room. The ball of frustration that had been winding up in her chest stalled for a moment. If she'd taken longer to think about it, she probably would've said no, but her manners and upbringing responded for her. "I—suppose so."

Weiss followed Ruby out into the hall, not entirely sure what the younger girl was doing. She was glad to be out of that conversation, at least, but leaving it like that felt slightly shameful—which did not help her irritation or her nerves. She was about to say something along those lines, but then Ruby turned around, checked up and down the hall, and then spoke.

"Weiss, what's wrong?" She asked. Weiss frowned.

"Aside from the potential Britannian menace in our midst, you mean?" She replied.

"Sort of. It's just… I feel like there's more to it that you're not saying. This doesn't seem like you," Ruby responded. Didn't seem… what?

"Well, you're hardly an expert on who I'm like—we barely know each other!" Weiss responded— only to feel a pang of regret and confusion when the younger girl frowned at her. Ruby didn't say anything for a moment, just looked back at her with searching silver eyes that seemed somehow too wide and too honest to bear looking into. Weiss began to feel the pressure of the silence.

"Look, Britannians are dangerous. That's all there is to it, and anyone who thinks otherwise is in for a rude awakening." Weiss said.

"But how do you know?" Ruby asked.

"I just—" a memory rose halfway to the forefront of her mind of a stunning smile, a sunny day, and the scent of peaches, and it almost made it to the surface before she could crush it back into place—"I—I've studied. I pay attention. I've even met some of them while they were doing business with my father, and I can't believe that you'd all just trust him so easily," Weiss said.

"I don't trust him, Weiss, but I trust Pyrrha." Ruby said, agonizingly calm. She paused, and Weiss was about to reply with a cutting and very clever remark when she abruptly continued, "I trust you, too, Weiss—it just seems like we don't know enough about this Lelouch guy to think he's up to something."

Weiss couldn't meet Ruby's eyes anymore. No, of course they wouldn't see it. And, she didn't care if they trusted her—she was mostly sure… and the part of her that was aching with hurt at the thought that they might not, couldn't itself be trusted. Why would they trust her, when they'd only just met? That foolish part of her had thought that they would believe her, their teammate, about the danger in their midst instead of just ignoring her… but that wasn't important.

"Pyrrha's clearly made up her mind, but she's never even met or had more than one conversation with this prince. I can't believe that you would all just—just follow along with her like sheep to the slaughter!" Weiss said. She looked back up and met Ruby's eyes, not sure what she expected to see—only to be met with a small smile and more affection and empathy than she could entirely handle.

"Weiss… you don't have to worry about us," Ruby said. Weiss almost flinched back.

"I—no, that's not…" Weiss began. Ruby just smiled wider, before looking at her with the same serious face she'd seen on her back when they'd seen the Prince's battleship.

"We just have to try and find out what he's up to and prove it to the others. If we don't try, and you're right about him… I know they'll change their minds eventually, but it might be only after something really bad happens," Ruby said.

"Well that's just absurd! He's probably being extremely cautious—Britannians are masters of deception, there's no way we could ever find anything without breaking into his room or something." Weiss protested, though she had to admit Ruby had a point. It was clear her word wasn't going to be enough, but what kind of proof would be necessary to—

"Or… we could just go talk to him and find out that way," Ruby said.

"That won't help at all!" Weiss said. Hadn't she explained that already? You could never tell who these Britannian nobles were by talking to them—it was like they'd made their own personalities into masks, far more so than even the Atlesian upper class.

"It couldn't hurt," Ruby said. Weiss scowled—how could she be such a dolt?

"Of course it could—talking is exactly how they start to get to you!" Weiss said.

"But he couldn't get to me, not with you there," Ruby said. Weiss took a second to respond to that.

"And where did all of this faith in me come from all of a sudden?" Weiss said, more quietly. Ruby frowned back at her.

"Darn it Weiss—you're my partner! And my friend, and the smartest person on our team, and you've saved my life more than once—I'd be pretty dumb to not have faith in you. Heck, it's part of my job! How could I lead people I don't trust?" Ruby said. Weiss stared back at her leader, whose eyes were almost hypnotizing in their intensity. She felt a sudden surge of warmth, somewhere in her chest. Ruby really did trust her, then. If her silver-eyed partner really thought this way… maybe Ruby wasn't so bad of a choice for group leader after all.

"So, they aren't going to worry about the prince unless we give them more of a reason, and you aren't going to be happy until they listen to you—so I think we need to go talk to him. It's the only way," Ruby said. Weiss clenched her teeth.

"I just told you, that's not an acceptable option. Britannian nobles enjoy using words as their weapons," She said. Ruby just shrugged.

"Well, I'm gonna go talk to him later. If you don't want to come, that's okay—but you're worried, and the rest of the team made up their minds, so I'm the only one who hasn't decided yet and I want to know more about him before I do," Ruby said.

"I…" Weiss paused. This was a very bad idea, but she knew that look—eerily similar to the one her teammate wore when she'd been told there was a fresh batch of cookies in the cafeteria—her partner wasn't going to be dissuaded, and there was no way that Weiss was going to let her go alone into that lion's den. She took a deep breath, then let it out.

"Fine. I'll go with you—but don't say I didn't warn you," Weiss said. Ruby grinned.

"Great! Let's go tell the others," Ruby said, walking back to the door. With a heavy heart, Weiss followed.

* * *

They couldn't catch him in their first class of the day, or their second. Before they could make it to their third, however, their pursuit was interrupted.

Weiss and Ruby were walking together a little ahead of their group when they ran into two of the Britannian's companions. They were facing each other head-on, and they did not look happy.

"I can't believe you," The red-haired girl—Karen?—growled. "You actually chose to betray us and side with them—with him?"

"Oh, so I'm the traitor now?" The boy—Soozakoo?—replied, voice seething with rage. "Are you even listening to yourself?"

"I was trying to avenge our people! Though maybe they aren't your people anymore, since you're so eager to throw your lot in with him—" the girl spat.

"He's my oldest friend, and you almost took him from me—and it would've been my fault for trusting you! How dare you try to turn this back on me?" The boy replied, practically bristling.

"Weiss, I think we should go…" Ruby whispered—apparently not quietly enough, because both of them turned to glare at her.

"This is a private conversation," The boy said. Weiss narrowed her eyes—he did not get to speak to her and her partner that way, not when he was the one choosing to make a scene out in the open.

"And this is a public pathway. Go find somewhere else to shout at each other if you don't want people to hear you," Weiss replied, crossing her arms. The boy grimaced, clearly becoming acutely aware of exactly where he was. That was more like it.

"You're right… my apologies," he said, bowing a quick bow and then striding off towards the arena. He was going to be in their class, then.

"Goddamnit, Suzaku—we aren't done!" The girl shouted, rushing after him. Weiss stared after them… rude as it had been, what in Remnant had they been talking about? Betrayal? Their people?

"What was that all about?" Yang asked, coming up beside them.

"I dunno…" Ruby said, shrugging. "We should probably get to class though—I don't want CRDL stealing our seats again." Yang nodded. Weiss certainly agreed.

CRDL had been an annoyance, to say the least. It was clear to her that they'd been trying to assert some kind of dominance among the first year students through intimidation and cruelty. Despite being utter cretins, they'd even succeeded to some extent, though they'd known well enough to stay away from teams RWBY and JNPR for the most part, the one notable exception having been the fool Arc, who they'd once tripped into one of Beacon's fountains.

It appeared that they had not yet arrived, however, as their seats were mercifully empty. Weiss was making her way to her own typical seat when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked over to see Ruby, who was nodding towards another part of the stands. She followed her partner's gaze to see—the Britannian. And his two teammates, who did not look particularly happy. Both sat on the complete opposite sides of the bench, with their team leader in the middle. The gaps between the three of them, however, were quite large… and Weiss believed she grasped Ruby's plan.

"I am not sure that we should—" She began, but Ruby was already walking over. Taking in a breath and doing her best to calm herself, Weiss followed.

They were halfway there before the Britannian noticed them, and Weiss again felt a chill of what-was-most-definitely-not-fear run down her spine when she accidentally made eye contact. She refused to look away, however, and she watched his gaze flicker between her and Ruby as they drew closer. And then they'd made it to his bench, and were standing almost next to him. The last time she'd been this close… well, it had been her most embarrassing, humiliating defeat, and even the mere memory of it lit a hot coal of fury in her chest that she had to struggle for a moment to douse. Schnees did not indulge in hotheaded rage. Frigid scorn and malice, on the other hand, was a household staple—but that was different.

"Hi!" Ruby said, sticking out a hand towards the Britannian, who blinked.  
"Hello," He said, reaching out his own and giving Weiss's partner's what looked like a firm shake.

"Could we please sit with you?" Ruby asked. The Britannian boy's eyebrows shot up.

"Ah…" He glanced to either side, then looked back at Ruby, and then at Weiss, who narrowed her eyes. The Britannian frowned, then looked back at Ruby.

"That's okay with me, but are you sure your partner wants to be here?" He said. Wait… was he trying to scare her off? The nerve.

"I'm not leaving my partner alone with the likes of you." Weiss said, glaring.

"Uh… yeah. So, we're sitting here then!" Ruby said, gleefully plopping herself down next to the now bemused-looking prince. Weiss sat on the other side of Ruby, with the Soozakoo boy to her right, and glared as best she could at the Britannian.

"I think we met before, at the docks—what was your name again?" The Britannian asked Ruby.

"I'm Ruby! Ruby Rose—and you already know Weiss." Ruby said with a grin, gesturing to Weiss, who gave him her most give-me-a-chance-and-I'll-stab-out-your-eyes glare. She was satisfied to see that he looked appropriately disturbed… unless… could that just be an act? The thought was infuriating.

"…nice to meet you," the Britannian said, looking back at Ruby with what seemed to be a genuine grin.

"Nice to meet you, too! Prince…" Ruby actually seemed to have forgotten his name, the adorable dolt. "…lettuce?"

The Britannian just stared for a moment, and Weiss began to tense up… but then he practically exploded into laughter. Ruby looked a bit put out, and Weiss wasn't entirely sure what to think.

"Ah! Ah… uh, I'm sorry, I just—I really wasn't expecting that." The Britannian said, wiping some moisture from his eyes. "I can't say I've ever heard that one before."

"Good one, too." Someone said, and Weiss almost jumped out of her seat as she realized that the Britannian's green-haired partner was sitting in what she would've sworn was an empty seat mere moments ago. Ruby actually did jump a little—even the Britannian looked surprised, although it was shifting rapidly into irritation.

"It's Lelouch—just Lelouch is fine. She's C.C." Lelouch said, causing the green-haired woman to stick her tongue out at him.

"I didn't say you could introduce me, prince lettuce." C.C. said. Weiss had to resist the urge to snicker at that.

"And I didn't say that you could plaster Pizza Hut posters all over my wall, but, here we are," Lelouch said, smiling with obvious strain.

"You're just upset that I decorated your gloomy-grey corner-of-doom with something that was more interesting than replica Grimm skulls or old maps. You should be thanking me, it looks nice," C.C. said in her strange monotonous voice, causing the Britannian to scowl.

"Nice? You can't be serious, it looks absolutely—" he glanced back and apparently became aware once again that he had company. "ah, well…anyway, what brings the two of you over here?"

"Well…" Ruby said, and Weiss noticed where her partner was staring only too late—the back of the Britannian's boot. He followed her gaze, then looked back up, confused.

"I wanted to ask if I could maybe justforasecond have a little tiny look at your weapons please?" Ruby blurted out. If Weiss had had any less self control, she would've groaned.

"Uh… why?" The Britannian asked. Weiss was barely certain the confusion on his face was genuine, though who could tell.

"Because they look so cool!" Ruby cried. Weiss could've flinched. She glanced around, and saw that some of the other students were turning away from their conversations to take note. She shot a glare their way, and was satisfied when they hurried to look away again.

"Not so loud you dolt!" She whispered, poking Ruby in the side and causing the other girl to squirm.

"Oww… uh, sorry Weiss," Ruby said, looking appropriately sheepish. Her bright, embarrassed grin made it difficult for Weiss to stay made at her, however.

"Well… I guess it couldn't hurt," the Britannian said, leaning down and pulling a dagger from where it was sheathed in his boot. Weiss had seen it before, of course, and inwardly bristled. Ruby just squealed with glee, although the Britannian boy paused before handing it over.

"Just be careful with it," he said. Ruby nodded over-enthusiastically in response, lifting the thing delicately out of his hand and appearing to take in every aspect of it. It was fascinating to Weiss how much interest Ruby took in weapons, though Weiss would never admit it. The girl poured over every detail of a weapon with the same enthusiasm and intensity that Weiss devoted to reading the Schnee Dust Co. quarterly report or studying for an examination, although Weiss had to admit Ruby could more than match her for overall enthusiasm.

The dagger itself wasn't particularly interesting to Weiss. It had a strangely curved handle, to be sure, and the coloration was interesting—a black-with-violet-slanted-stripes grip with a rounded silver pommel, a thick silver-colored guard, and a gold-colored blade with a bright crimson line running up the middle. Flashy, sure, but not particularly interesting.

"What's he called?" Ruby asked.

"Fragarach. I built it a little more than a year ago," the Britannian said. "He's beautiful… ooh, what's this do?" Ruby asked, pointing at a button.

"Secondary mode, mid-to-long range—you can press it, but make sure that there's nothing cuttable near the blade," The Britannian replied. Ruby pressed the button, and Weiss watched in horrified fascination as the dagger blade split down the middle and rotated, shifting from dagger to what was clearly a revolver of some kind in an instant, finishing with a trigger sliding out of the base of the guard and audibly clicking into place.

He'd had this the whole time. He'd had this gun in his dagger, and in the entirety of their admittedly brief fight the other day he hadn't even needed to use it. Weiss couldn't decide whether she wanted to scream in frustrated rage or curl up and cry, but she very much did neither. Composure, as always, came first.

"Wow, that's a really smooth mechanism!" Ruby said with a grin, handing the blade/gun back to him. "And what's your sword called? Does it have any special modes?" She asked.

"Moralltach, and no," He said, actually returning her smile.

"Well, that's okay—have you seen mine before? I had that match with Fergus on Thursday…" Ruby continued.

"That was the guy with the bow-sword, right?" The Britannian asked, and Ruby nodded. "It looked like you beat him pretty handily with your gun-scythe—it's an impressive weapon."

"Aw, thank you!" Ruby said, grinning. Weiss knew better—compliments were easy. From someone like this, they could mean absolutely nothing.

"What's it's name?" The Britannian asked.

"She's called Crescent Rose, I built her myself back in Signal," Ruby continued. The Britannian nodded.

"Why Crescent Rose?" The Britannian asked. Ruby shrugged, although Weiss was admittedly somewhat interested to hear this as well, and a little alarmed at the realization that she hadn't asked this of her partner before.

"Well, my last name is Rose, and she's shaped a bit like a crescent moon—it felt right, you know? What about your weapons? Why Fragarach and Moralltach?" She asked. The Britannian boy paused for a moment.

"They're both names of weapons from old legends of Albion. It's a little embarrassing, but I honestly couldn't think of anything better." The Britannian said, with an embarrassed smile that Weiss didn't buy for a second.

"Ah, okay!" Ruby said, pausing for another moment as if searching for words.

Before she could say anything else, however, Professor Goodwitch arrived. The class chatter died down, and she went through the introductions for the day before beginning the challenge roster. The first name she said was—

"Kallen Stadfeldt, you're up first. Are you prepared?"

The other two turned to look at the red-haired girl, and Weiss looked over as well. 'Kallen' stood up stiffly and nodded.

"Very well, then. Is there anyone you would like to challenge?" Professor Goodwitch asked. Kallen stared back for a moment, saying nothing, before looking to her right—passing over Weiss, Ruby, and the Britannian—to glare at her target.

"I challenge Suzaku Kururugi," she said, practically growling. Professor Goodwitch narrowed her eyes for a moment, before turning towards Suzaku.

"Mr. Kururugi, do you accept this challenge?" Professor Goodwitch asked. There was a long pause before Suzaku stood, glared back at Kallen, and nodded.

"I do," He said. Without even being prompted, both set off in opposite directions towards the prep rooms.

Weiss heard a heavy sigh and turned back to see the Britannian with a hand to his forehead and a frown on his face.

"What's wrong?" Ruby asked.

"Well, my teammates are currently in the middle of a fight. Bringing in actual violence like this could get… bad," the Britannian said.

"Bad? But… Professor Goodwitch won't let them hurt each other or anything, right?" Ruby asked.

"That's the idea. Still, it's bad enough when they spar and they aren't angry at each other. I'm a little worried for the sake of the arena," the Britannian said. It occurred to Weiss, however, that they were getting very much off-topic.

"Ruby, didn't we have something else to ask him about?" Weiss said. Her team leader blinked.

"Yeah, of course. Lelouch, Weiss and I heard from Pyrrha that you guys competed in a championship together—how was that?" Ruby asked. Weiss would've groaned, if groaning wasn't entirely unSchneelike. She didn't want to be here, with their present company, for any longer than they had to be—and Ruby seemed to be scheming to make her stay as long as possible, taking an extroardinarily roundabout route to asking the one stupid question they need to ask for this line of inquiry to be over and allow them to be able to leave. The Britannian, on the other hand, reacted with surprise.

"Oh, that? It was… I guess I'm not completely sure how to describe it. Fun, at times, and challenging. Also occasionally terrifying. Almost no one was happy to see us do well," the Britannian said, smiling sadly before continuing, "when did you meet Pyrrha? Are you all old friends?"

"Oh, no—we just met!" Ruby said, laughing. "I didn't know anyone here other than my sister Yang—" she gestured towards their blonde teammate, who seemed to be in the middle of an arm-wrestling contest with Nora—"before the first day. I, uh, jumped ahead a few years, so all of my old friends are still back at Signal…" she finished. The Britannian's eyebrows rose.

"You… you jumped ahead a few years? How did that happen?" He asked. Ruby chuckled uncomfortably.

"Aw, it was no big deal—I just helped stop an, ah, dust store robbery," Ruby said.

"She took on a master criminal and an entire squad of his heavily armed goons and drove them back singlehandedly," Weiss corrected. She couldn't let her teammate sell herself short—it was a reasonably impressive feat, and if Ruby wasn't going to take pride in it, Weiss would do it for her. Judging by the further raising of eyebrows, the Britannian was suitably impressed, or at least making himself appear to be.

"Well, that's not something you hear every day." The Britannian's green-haired partner commented. Then, without any warning, she lay down across the Britannian's lap, resting her elbows on his thigh and her chin in her hands as she stared at them. Weiss couldn't help but stare back. That was… brazen didn't even begin to describe it.

"You're a proud one, aren't you?" The girl asked, golden eyes burning into Weiss's own. A 'proud one'? Of course she was proud, but… what was that supposed to mean?

"Or… at least, you pretend to be." The green-haired girl said with a strange smile. Weiss kept her composure and did not look away, though she very much wanted to.

"What in the stars do you think you're talking about?" Weiss said, crossing her arms.

"C.C." The Britannian said.

"I'm not sure. It's hard to see through all the ice," C.C. said. Ice? What…?

"C.C., get off." The Britannian said. Then girl's gaze shifted mercifully away from Weiss and back towards her partner.

"How lecherous of you, Lelouch. Right here, in front of all of these people? What kind of woman do you think I am?" She replied. It took a moment for Weiss to understand the joke—apparently a little longer for the Britannian.

"Get off of me. Please." He ground out through clenched teeth. The girl obliged. It took more than usual for Weiss to restrain herself from laughing at his expense, which would've been unSchneelike indeed. One laughed at others behind closed doors, not in public.

"So, what happened to the criminal you mentioned?" The Britannian asked.

"Oh, he got away. He got into a helicopter with some sort of crazy fire lady. He's robbed a couple more dust stores, actually," Ruby said. The Britannian looked alarmed.

"I… are you serious?" He said, looking between the two of them. Ruby just shrugged.

"They'll get him sometime, I guess," she said. Weiss was getting very tired of this back-and-forth, however, and was acutely aware of how far off-topic they'd skewed.

"Look, there was something else we wanted to ask you abou—" She began. Before she could even complete her question, however, the doors on one end of the arena violently slammed open, accompanied by a gust of wind that sent unsecured papers fluttering into the air. Out strode Suzaku Kururugi, whose scowl could've curdled milk.

Then, the doors on the other side of the arena burst open and Kallen Stadfeldt emerged, glowing a bright shade of magenta and each step screaming of fury.

"Brace yourselves," the Britannian warned, grimacing.


End file.
